


The Game Is On

by acemindpalace, allroadsleadbacktobakerstreet, TearStainedAshes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Eating Disorders, Fluff and Angst, Fluid Sexuality, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Rough Sex, Sex, Sherlock Holmes and Relationships, Sherlock Holmes and Sexuality, Sherlock would be lost without his blogger, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 23:31:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 45
Words: 91,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3429521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acemindpalace/pseuds/acemindpalace, https://archiveofourown.org/users/allroadsleadbacktobakerstreet/pseuds/allroadsleadbacktobakerstreet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearStainedAshes/pseuds/TearStainedAshes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An original AU written between myself and my co-writer TearStainedAshes. </p><p>Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have one thing in common: they were both named after fictional characters. One boy lives in America, the other in England. A stretch of sea, an age gap, and circumstances keep them at arms reach from each other for years. Witness their journey, the many hardships they will have to face and the roads that their lives take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What's in a name?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! A new day, a new fic just for you wonderful people. I'm unwell today (recovering from a cold/ flue type thing) but I wanted to get these two chapters up to share with you all.
> 
> If you are acquainted with the fan fictions that I write with Tearstainedashes you will know that sometimes our writing may turn very dark, and may touch on serious subject issues. We will always tag our writing with new warnings as/when we need them, and we will ensure to mention anything major in the notes of each chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Suicidal thoughts, mentions of sex, mentions of eating disorders and weight gain.
> 
> -AMP

The big red book was a solid comfort in Sherlock's hands. He traced his fingertips over the gold lettering on the hard outer case of the book. The action was familiar and comforting; he had repeated it thousands of times.

 **_The complete stories of_ **  
**_Sherlock Holmes_ **  
**_By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle_ **

The stories of Sherlock Holmes were about a genius detective and his best friend John Watson. The detective was his namesake. His mother and father had been great fans of the stories, so much so that they had named both their sons after the two Holmes brothers.

The thing is, their parents had not expected both boys to treat the stories so religiously. Mycroft was just like his namesake: fat, intelligent, and working in politics. Mycroft was soon going to be leaving home to study at university, so that one day he could take up a small position in the government. Mr and Mrs Holmes couldn't be more pleased with their eldest son.

However, Sherlock felt like the black sheep of the family. So much so that he had literally shaped himself into the detective he was named after, so well that it was almost like he was an actual living impression of the fictional character himself. He had read each line of the large book that it was now imprinted in his mind. Sometimes it felt like each time he read the stories he was absorbing a little bit more of the famous detective; he was becoming Sherlock Holmes.

Unfortunately for Sherlock, this meant that he had difficulties with making friends. He was a lonesome boy, who didn't seem to fit in anywhere. He was a genius and prided himself on the ability to deduce things about the people around him. This meant that he wasn't a very likeable person, especially when he blurted out facts about people's sex lives. This usually left him with a black eye and a bloody nose, and it worried his parents terribly.

They tried to get Sherlock to stop reading the stories. They'd thrown the book into a bin but he'd easily fished it out before the bin man had a chance to take it away. Now he kept it hidden from both his parents. Only Mycroft knew that he still had the book, but the elder boy had promised not to say anything, as he knew first-hand how it felt to have a fictional character as part of who you are.

His parents had threatened to send him to a therapist if things didn't change. Sherlock didn't want that. Therapists were stupid.

With a sigh, he slid the book beneath his pillow. It wasn't comfortable to sleep on but he didn't sleep much as it was. He had bad insomnia. He'd suffered from it since he was ten, and as he was ageing it was becoming even harder to find sleep. Right now he was in the middle of his summer holidays, making the problem worse. Even though he could hear the rain pouring down on his bedroom roof, he was too hot and uncomfortable to even try sleeping.

Instead, he turned to his blog, as he always did when he felt like he needed to escape from the stupidity of his family, and he began to rant in a text post.

* * *

 

_Sometimes it's hard being me, especially when being 'me' is exactly what I'm getting in trouble for. My parents are stupid. They should have thought of calling me a different name other than Sherlock if they didn't want me to grow up to be a great genius. For fourteen years of my life they have supported the fact that I am Sherlock Holmes, but now they are showing idiotic concern that I have no friends. Having no friends is fine, though, as I have tried to explain to them. Alone is what I have. Alone protects me._

_Though I suppose it'd be nice to have someone to talk to. Sometimes it's quite annoying talking to Billy (my skull). It's a rather one-sided conversation, you see. The dead don't tend to reply to the living. It's the summer holidays now and my parents have threatened to take me to a therapist if I do not make any friends by the time school starts. It's hardly fair. Mycroft doesn't have friends and they do not show the same concern. Maybe it's because, as my doctor has put it, I am a "late developer". I am too thin and small for my age. What I lack in aesthetics, I make up for in brains. I wish they would just stop pressing the issue. This whole situation is wearing me thin._

_#Tired of this BS #I am SHERLOCK # You named me # Are you actual idiots # Alone is what I have#alone protects me # personal post #I don't expect anyone to read this._

* * *

John Watson sat in his local coffee shop, sipping at his regular non-fat half-caf latte without whip as he typed away on his computer. He pushed his glasses further up on his nose and took another sip of his latte. He'd been updating his blog for the past hour. The barista brought him another latte when he finished his current one. He was up to three now. Any more and he'd be bouncing off the walls, even if it was half-caf. He pushed his sleeves back up above his elbows and resumed his blogging.

* * *

 

_**I hate this stigma over me because of my name.** _

_My parents are what you would call "hardcore" Sherlock Holmes fanatics. They like to call themselves "scholars" but they're really just lunatics. Not only did they legally change their married name to Watson, but they named me John and my brother Harry after the characters in the "renowned" Sherlock Holmes series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. So, yes, my actual, legal name is John Watson. And I hate it._

_For some reason, everyone expects me to be a certain way because of my name and who I was named after. The dude isn't even real! He's a fictional fucking character and I'm sick and tired of being labeled because of my goddamn name. I can't wait until I turn 18 so I can change it._

_I have done everything I can to try to break out of the stigma of my Watson name. I refuse to become a doctor not only because I hate hospitals, but I can't stomach the sight of blood. I faint. Also, I don't have some cheesy, porn moustache or whatever. Ew. I couldn't even grow a moustache right now even if I wanted to. My face just doesn't like facial hair. I have also never shot a gun, nor do I want to enlist in the military. While I admire and respect those who serve our country, it isn't for me. I'm far too wimpy and too much of a coward to fight, let alone shoot a gun at someone. Oh, and let's not forget that I'm a "hipster piece of shit who should go smoke a blunt and fuck off." Yes, an anon actually said that to me the other day. I didn't publish the answer. I haven't even answered it yet. Whatever. I don't care. If you hate me because of my lifestyle choices, then you are a poor individual and I pity you._

_So yeah. Please stop labeling me because I happen to share the name of a fictional character. I blame my parents for everything. It's their fault that my life is so shitty. I'm done with this. Only 18 months to go until I can change my name to something normal where no one will expect me to become a gun toting veteran doctor with a pedophile moustache._

_Here. Have a selfie, because apparently I'm a pretentious shit like that._

_{image of John wearing a beanie and sunglasses, smoking a cigarette}_

_#tired of this BS #you named me #you're actual idiots #I am not my name #fuck this #fuck my life #personal post #text post #hipster blog #I don't expect anyone to read this_

* * *

 

Sherlock could hear his parents arguing. It was a petty argument but it was still loud and full of a vast range of swear words. Everyone thought his family was too perfect to speak in such a vulgar way, but nope. They could slum it with the rest of the low lives in London.

Sherlock sniffled to himself. Mycroft didn't get home from his girlfriends for another hour. Who was Mycroft kidding? It was so obvious that he liked men. Or perhaps he was bisexual? Either way he still should have been here to distract Sherlock from their parents.

He heard a crash. His father had left to have a drink with his golfing buddies. The manor house was suddenly very quiet.

A tear slipped down Sherlock's slightly chubby cheek. He was still plagued with puppy fat and he couldn't wait to grow out of it.

He found himself writing another text post, this one shorter.

* * *

 

_I fucking wish I didn't exist._

_#Fuck everything # I want to be dead_

* * *

John's dash was flooded with posts about sending some blog some love due to suicidal thoughts. John frowned and clicked on the provided URL. He read through some of the boy's posts, his frown deepening. He was only 14. No 14-year-old kid should feel the way this one did. John blinked when he came across a post where the kid complained about his name. His parents were Holmes lunatics too? He clicked on the ask button of the kid's blog and typed out a message.

_Stumbled across your blog and couldn't help but notice your name. Are your parents idiots too? Because mine named me after a Holmes character too. Also, please don't wish you were better off dead. You literally have your whole life ahead of you. You never know how fantastic it could turn out to be._

 

He hit send and a corner of his lip quirked up when the "message sent" icon popped up. He sat back and sipped at his coffee. All he could do now was wait.

Sherlock swallowed thickly when he read the onslaught of messages telling him not to kill himself. It was then that he came across one that made his skin crawl. There was a boy named after a Holmes character?

Sherlock snorted when he clicked the URL. it took him to a hipster blog. The boy was called John Watson. Ridiculous.

He clicked out of the blog and logged off. He didn't know what to reply besides this John Watson fellow was probably an idiot.

John became increasingly concerned when the boy didn't answer his message. He scrolled through his personal posts, but that only made his gut clench in worry. Poor Sherlock lived a lonely life, and no one seemed to understand that he was only trying to be as brilliant as the man he was named after. John only hoped he didn't turn to drugs like the fictional Holmes did. He sent him another message.

 

_Just wanted to see how you were doing. You didn't answer my ask, or any of the possible others, so I'm hoping you're just ignoring them all and that you haven't done anything drastic._

 

It was becoming increasingly harder to ignore John Watson. The boy was persistent and almost obsessive with the way he sent Sherlock messages.

Finally, he caved in, and messaged him.

  
_**I'm fine. I haven't killed myself. Yet.** _

John sighed in relief when the boy finally messaged him back. Weeks of nothing had had him worried.

 

_Thanks for letting me know. But please don't kill yourself. I realise I'm a pretentious hipster and you probably hate me, but I'm here to talk if you want. Sometimes venting to a stranger on the Internet is better than therapy._

  _ **I'm not the sort to make friends. Not even online. Though I appreciate the sentiment.** _

_Well, if you ever change your mind, here's my email. Just hold on to it in case you need to talk to someone._

* * *

 

Sherlock had refused to email John. It would be like giving in. However, the afternoon before his brother was due to leave for university, he found himself seriously considering it.

"Please don't go," he pleaded to his brother softly. "Please?"

"I have to go, Lock," Mycroft said softly. "I can't obtain a minor position in the government without a proper education. I promise to call you every day, OK? And you can write me letters. I know how much you like to write. But I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I'm settled, yeh?"

"Please!" Sherlock begged his brother. "You're the only person that actually likes me and if you go I'll have no one!"

"That isn't true. The Hooper girl a few houses down likes you."

Sherlock snorted and pulled a face. "She has a god-awful crush on me. It's irritating."

"At least she likes you," Mycroft said. "Maybe try to make friends with her?"

"No. I don't need friends. I don't care what mummy says. I'm fine without them."

"Would you try to make at least one friend? For me?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock shook his head. "I don't want to make friends. I want you to stay."

Mycroft sighed and pulled Sherlock into his arms. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I have to go. But we've still got the rest of the day to spend together. Want to go out?"

Sherlock sniffled and nodded reluctantly. " Where are we going?"

"Anywhere you want to go."

"Can we go out for ice cream?" Sherlock asked, eyes shining with hope.

"Of course." Mycroft grabbed his wallet. "Let's go."

Sherlock grabbed hold of Mycroft's sleeve tight. "My, you'll come back for Christmas, right?"

"Of course. Promise."

"Good. Because I'll miss you, you know? I wish you didn't have to go. It's not fair. I can't wait to leave this hell hole. Our parents have been even more insufferable lately."

"Yeah. I know. They've been really hard on you lately." He wrapped an arm around Sherlock's shoulders as they exited the house. "And I'm going to miss you too, you know."

"They're threatening to take me to a therapist," Sherlock whispered. "They think I'm somehow broken."

"They're worried about you," Mycroft said. "This is why I think having a friend would help. Just one person to talk to. Who isn't me."

"I'm not broken, My," the small boy whispered. "I'm Sherlock Holmes. I don't befriend people. People are stupid."

"Sherlock befriended John Watson," Mycroft pointed out. "So he obviously doesn't think _all_  people are stupid."

"I don't have a John Watson. I'm never going to have a John Watson. Just leave it, OK?"

"Geez. Calm down. I was only trying to help."

"I can't calm down. Don't you see? I literally can't! Why? Because my whole life I've been trying to be Sherlock Holmes. So much so that I am him. Why is it then that now everyone criticises me for that fact?"

Mycroft sighed and pulled Sherlock in for a hug. Sherlock barely came up to his chest as he hadn't hit his growth spurt yet. And Mycroft was still growing given he had only just turned 18 a few months.

"I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I wish I had more to say to make you feel better. Do you still want to go out for ice cream or do you want to go home?"

Sherlock, his face still buried against Mycroft, replied in a low mumble. "Ice cream sounds good. Ice cream always makes me feel better."

"OK," Mycroft whispered. "Let's go get some ice cream. Any size. My treat."

Sherlock's belly rumbled and he blushed. " I think I'll stick with a small portion. I'm already well on my way to being the same size as you. I'm small and chubby. I just hope I grow out of my chubbiness. Do you think it's just puppy fat like our parents tell me?"

"Yeah. Just puppy fat. Mine never went away because I ate too much during my puberty."

"So I'll be fine if I just don't eat anything."

"No. Just don't eat as much as I did. Eat healthy, don't not eat. Please don't starve yourself. I don't want you to develop an eating disorder."

 _Too late for that_ , Sherlock thought bitterly.

"I'm not going to starve myself. Promise."

"Look me in the eye and say that again," Mycroft said, scowling.

Sherlock looked Mycroft straight in the eyes. "I'm not going to starve myself. I promise."

"OK. Thank you." Mycroft draped an arm over Sherlock's shoulders again and they walked over to the ice cream shop.

"What flavour are you having?" Sherlock asked. "I fancy chocolate mint for myself."

"I was thinking chocolate fudge brownie."

Sherlock pulled a face. "That's disgusting. How can you possibly like that?"

"Because it's a fudge brownie in chocolate ice cream. It's delicious."

Sherlock looked down at Mycroft's stomach. "Guess liking that sort of gross stuff is how you got so... sorry. I'll shut up."

"Yeah." Mycroft looked down at his round stomach. "Guess it is. I really should start watching my weight and what I eat. I don't want to develop any major health issues."

"No. You don't. Who knows if you continue eating the way you do...your girlfriend might dump you. So... how's life in paradise? Good?"

"It's shit and you know it," Mycroft grumbled. "I never could hide anything from you. I know you know."

"My, there's nothing wrong about being gay, you know? Mummy will come around to the idea eventually. Father might need a bit more convincing." Sherlock swallowed. Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say. Mycroft looked furious at him.

"I don't want to bring our parents into this," Mycroft growled. "I never want them to find out. They'll disown me."

"I won't tell them. I would never do that to you. I was just trying to say that, well, that there's nothing wrong about being gay. Not in this day and age."

"I know, but I'm not ready to fully come out. I just... I don't want to see the look on Mummy's face if or when I tell her."

"She probably already knows." Sherlock pointed out. "Mummy is a very observant woman. I think she knows about me."

"What about you?"

"Nothing.It doesn't matter."

"Sherlock, you know you can tell me anything, right?" Mycroft said softly. "I won't judge you or threaten to send you to therapy like our parents. You can trust me and confide in me. You know that, right?"

"Of course I know that. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that it is a very personal matter."

"Oh. OK. Well, when you're ready to talk about it I'll listen."

"It's just... how can you be so sure you're gay?"

"Because the mere idea of sex with my girlfriend makes me want to vomit," Mycroft said honestly. "And... I've snogged some blokes before and I liked it better than snogging girls."

"Do you think I need practical experiences in order to really know? I don't know what I am."

"Ah. You've reached that point where you're questioning your heteronormativity," Mycroft said. "Well, for now, I'll just tell you what I did. I watched videos and talked with people online. Anonymously of course. It helped me get a general idea of what I was feeling. But I didn't know for sure until I snogged Graham in college."

Sherlock bit his lower lip in thought. "I suppose I don't really have to put a label on myself yet."

"No, you don't. Don't put yourself into a corner too soon. You still have a lot to learn."

"Yeh. I mean...the thought of sex repulses me."

"You're only 14. Sex is supposed to repulse you right now."

"But all the boys at school always talk about sex like it's perfectly normal."

"They're just playing it up," Mycroft told him. "The only penis they've seen is their own and the only breasts their mum's or sister's by accident. They're just trying to make themselves seem cool. Trust me."

Sherlock sighed miserably. "Fine. Yeh, OK. I just wish being a teenager wasn't so hard."

"Yeah. So do I."

"You won't be a teenager for much longer though." Sherlock grumbled. "I've got five years left of this shit."

"I've only just turned 18. So I've got the rest of this plus next. And I can't wait until I'm not a teenager anymore and people will see me as an adult."

"Good for you. You'll be an adult and they'll see me as a god damn child still."

"You'll be 16 when I turn 20. You'll be a young adult by then."

"Our parents won't see it that way. They'll still see me as their little boy."

"That's because you're the youngest. Mum will always view you as the baby. And I'm so sorry."

"Why do I have to be the youngest? I'd rather be a middle child." Sherlock huffed, blowing air out from his nostrils.

"Why would you want that? It's statistically proven that middle children are more troublesome and ignored more by their parents. Why would you want that?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Because maybe they'd stop being so overprotective of me if they had an actual baby to look after? I just want them to stop treating me like a child, and it'd be nice if they'd finish the whole therapy business. I don't need therapy. There simply isn't anything wrong with me."

Mycroft considered that for a moment before nodding. "Makes sense. Ah! Ice cream!" They'd finally arrived at the ice cream parlour.

"Awesome!" Sherlock exclaimed, running inside the ice cream shop gleefully. Mycroft chuckled and followed him. Sherlock was staring at the vast array of ice cream, his nose pressed against the glass freezer that kept the ice cream cold.

"Can I have chocolate chip, chocolate mint, strawberry, vanilla, and coffee flavoured ice cream? Please? Pretty please. I won't tell mummy if you won't."

Mycroft chuckled again and nodded. "Sure. I don't care. Get as much ice cream as you want."

"You want all of that in one cup, or all separate?" The girl behind the counter asked Sherlock.

"One please." Sherlock grinned, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"OK." The girl smiled at him and grabbed a big cup to put all of Sherlock's ice cream in. "Which flavour do you want in first?"

"I don't mind." Sherlock shrugged. "Put them in any order. "

"OK." The girl scooped ice cream into the cup and soon it was overflowing with the sweet cream.

"Here you are." She passed Sherlock the cup and a plastic spoon. "Enjoy."

"Thank you." He grinned at the girl before moving to sit by a table nearest the window of the shop. Mycroft opted to get raspberry flavoured frozen yogurt. He paid for their treats and sat down with Sherlock. Sherlock began to eat his ice cream with vigor, moaning softly in delight. It was so sweet and delicious. Mycroft ate his slowly, trying not to stuff his face. Sherlock finished his ice cream in a flash. He sat back, groaning softly. He felt sick, which was unsurprising really.

"Hey," Mycroft said softly. "You OK? Got some brain freeze?"

"Brain freeze and stomach ache." Sherlock groaned.

"Want me to get you some pop?"

Sherlock nodded weakly. "I think this is why mummy says not to eat so much ice cream."

"Probably, yeah." Mycroft chuckled softly. "I'll get you that drink. Any particular flavour?"

"I'll just have coke please."

Mycroft nodded and bought Sherlock a can of Coke. He passed it to him and then resumed eating his frozen yogurt. Sherlock sipped at the coke slowly, rubbing his unsettled stomach.

"If you're gonna be sick, don't try to hold it back," Mycroft whispered so the other patrons wouldn't hear. "You'll feel better. And I can always buy you more ice cream. Just maybe in a smaller size."

"I'll be fine." Sherlock mumbled. "Just don't tell mummy. She's already worried about my eating habits."

"Yeah, OK," Mycroft said softly. He watched Sherlock studiously. Something was off about his little brother, but he couldn't tell exactly what.

Sherlock glanced at Mycroft before quickly looking away. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Just wanted to burn your image into my brain before I left tomorrow." The corner of Mycroft's lip twitched up, threatening a smile.

Sherlock's lower lip trembled. "I don't want you to go."

"I know, Lock," Mycroft said softly. His eyes brightened when a wonderful idea popped into his head. "I want to get you a present. Come with me. Bring your coke."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. "A present?" He asked, standing up with his can of pop.

"Yeah. A present." Mycroft tossed out what was left of his frozen yogurt. It wasn't very good anyway. He did a quick Google search on his phone and looked up directions for where he wanted to go. "It's not too far from here. Want to walk?"

Sherlock shrugged and smirked slightly. "Sure. I don't really mind walking. I like leg work more than you."

"Hey now. I enjoy a nice walk now and again." Mycroft held the door open for Sherlock and draped his arm over his shoulders once they were back outside.

Sherlock chuckled softly. "But you always complain about how exercise doesn't agree with you."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to make a change. I need to be healthier. Just because I'm named after Mycroft Holmes doesn't mean I have to be obese like him. I can be my own version. And you can be your own version of Sherlock."

"You speak as though we are two separate people."

"Aren't you?" Mycroft raised a quizzical eyebrow. "We may have moulded ourselves after our respectful characters, but that does not mean we are actually them."

"Maybe that's how you feel, but I feel like I am him. The original Sherlock Holmes and I are one. Surely you've noticed how bright I am! That isn't just coincidence."

"I know it isn't a coincidence. You're a very bright young man. Maybe you'll realise that you don't have to stick to the stigma of your name when you're older. It took me a while to realise that fact, but I'm still going to uni to get a political education regardless of my name. I still like politics."

"I don't think so. I am Sherlock Holmes. I will always be Sherlock Holmes."

"If you were truly Sherlock Holmes then you wouldn't have a mobile phone or a laptop or that blog you're so fond of," Mycroft pointed out. "Think of yourself as a modern day alternate universe type Holmes. You can still be him, but with your own little personal twist."

Sherlock shook his head, looking at his brother with hurt filled eyes. "I should have known. I thought you were different but you're just like everyone else. You don't believe I'm him, but I am. In every single way. I'll show you that I'm him. I'll show you all!"

Sherlock threw his can of pop to the ground, coke flying everywhere. He turned on his and began to run away. It was only when his brother was out of sight that his tears began to fall.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft screamed after him. "Sherlock! Come back!" Unfortunately, he didn't dare try to run after him. Walking tired him out enough, but running? Hell no. He pulled out his mobile and tried to call Sherlock but it went straight to voicemail. He sent him some texts to read later, apologising profusely and begging him to come back so he could say goodbye before he left for uni the next morning. Sherlock never answered. So, with a defeated sigh, Mycroft continued to trudge to his destination, intent on getting Sherlock that present.

Sherlock hid himself away in an empty alleyway between two bins. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

He had never coped with emotions particularly well. It would seem that as he was aging that was only worsening. Tears were still rapidly falling down his cheeks. He was an inconsolable mess.

He barely noticed when it got dark. He was too busy trying to coax himself out of hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End notes from TSA:
> 
> That's right! Another RP between myself and MBC (formerly MJCF, formerly IB). We can't seem to stop. But that means more fluffy, sexy, disturbing darkness for you guys! As MBC said earlier, we will tag chapters accordingly when there will be elements some readers may find disturbing or triggering. But the first few chapters aren't so dark, so you shouldn't have to worry. But we'll definitely be sure to let you know ahead of time when they begin to turn darker.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with us and we hope you enjoy this new story.
> 
> ~TSA


	2. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of sex, and swearing (this will probably be a common occurrence in the fic), but other than that this is quite a gentle chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, you're getting spoiled today. Onwards to chapter 2... 
> 
> Until next time!

Mycroft tried to stay awake as long as he could, but when midnight hit he had to go to bed. He was leaving at 6 a.m. and he needed sleep, so he wouldn't fall asleep behind the wheel. He left Sherlock's present in his room and, with a disappointed sigh, went to bed.

* * *

By the time Sherlock finally managed to make his small body move it was five in the morning. The sun was beginning to rise. He was shaking badly from the rough night he had experienced. It had been Sherlock's first night sleeping rough and he hadn't enjoyed it one little bit. He was exhausted, wet, and frozen.

He glanced at his phone. His brother was leaving at six. There was no way that he'd make it home in time. He swallowed. Though he was still furious at his brother, he wanted to say goodbye, and now it was too late.

He searched in his back pocket for some spare change, knowing that it would be faster and warmer to take a taxi, rather than walk. He found a ten pound note. Hopefully that would be enough.

* * *

Mycroft delayed his departure as long as he could, but when 6:20 arrived he couldn't put it off any longer. He hugged his parents goodbye and told them not to worry about Sherlock, that he was going to be OK. He got in the car and glanced out down the road.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock," he whispered. "I love you, and I'm really going to miss you. Please be OK." He sighed sadly and took off down the road.

* * *

 

Sherlock stumbled out of the taxi half an hour later. He was shocked to see that his parents had called the police, but that didn't matter, all that mattered was seeing his brother off.

"Please still be here. Please. Please," he begged as he ran through the door, practically barging into a police officer.

"Whoa!" The officer said, righting them both. "Hey! You're the kid! Guys! He's OK!"

Sherlock sighed. "I don't have time for this. I need to say goodbye to Mycroft!"

"Sherlock!" Mrs Holmes exclaimed when she came out of the sitting room. She ran over to him and pulled him into a hug. "Oh, sweetie, I'm so glad you're OK!"

Sherlock sniffled and hugged his mum tight. "Please don't worry about me mummy. I'm fine. I just...Mycroft upset me."

"I know, love. He told me what happened. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. No more threats of therapy, I promise. I'm just so glad you've come back and you're OK. Though you're chilled to the bone. How about a hot bath and some soup?"

"Ok. I want to...to say goodbye to Mycroft first though. Please say he's still here."

Mrs Holmes bit her lip and looked down at Sherlock with sad eyes. "I'm so sorry, love, but he left 20 minutes ago."

"He's...He's gone? But I didn't get to say goodbye."

"He waited as long as he could, love," Mrs Holmes assured him. "But he couldn't stay. I'm so sorry. He... He left you something in your room. A goodbye present."

"He..." Sherlock hicupped on a sob. "He did? He got me a present even though I ran away from him. I yelled at him. I don't deserve a present."

"Why don't you go and see what he got you?" Mrs Holmes suggested.

"K. Can I have a hot cocoa too?" Sherlock asked, lips trembling. "I'm so c-c-cold."

"Of course, baby. I can run you a warm bath too if you want."

Sherlock quickly nodded. His small body was beginning to shake badly from the cold. "Yes p-p-p-lease."

"OK. Go change out of your cold clothes and go see what Myc got you." Mrs Holmes let Sherlock go so he could go upstairs to his room.

Sherlock didn't hesitate in running up the stairs. He wanted to strip from his clothes, but more importantly he wanted to see the present his brother had gotten him. When he reached his bedroom, he saw a note pinned to the door. It said:

_Open your door carefully. I've left a precious something in your bedroom. I hope this makes up for everything. ~Myc x_

Curious, Sherlock opened his door slowly. As soon as he did so he heard a whine, followed by a small bark.

"A puppy?" He gasped softly as he caught sight of a beautiful red haired puppy. The poor thing was shaking. "Hey. Did... did Myc leave you here? For me?"

The pup whined and yipped at Sherlock. Thankfully Mycroft hadn't been stupid and just left it in there with no food or water.Puppy dishes sat by Sherlock's wardrobe, full of kibbles and water. There were also training pads littered on the floor, should the pup have an accident. There was another note on Sherlock's nightstand. Sherlock wandered over to the note picking it up, feeling his heart shattering into a million pieces as he read it. He'd been such a brat to his brother. If anything, it was he who deserved Mycroft's forgiveness, not the other way around.

* * *

 

_Sherlock,_

_Please forgive me for what I said last night. I know you relate to Sherlock Holmes on a deep level, and that you've read the books so often you've practically become the character, but please know it was not my intention to hurt your feelings. It is never my intention to hurt you when I discuss our characters and how we are or aren't like them. While I identify with the Mycroft from the books on a deep level, I know that I am not him nor will I ever be him. That doesn't stop me from pursuing a political career, nor does it stop me from having a proper brotherly relationship with you. It's never clear in the books what sort of relationship the Holmes brothers have, and so I've done my best to give us a good one regardless._

_I did mean what I said when I said you can become your own version of Sherlock Holmes. Doyle's son did exactly the same thing when he started writing using the Holmes character after his father's death. And let's not forget the numerous films, plays, television series, and other portrayals of Holmes that have been featured throughout the decades. I think he's been a dog, a woman, a cucumber, and also a teenager. And let's not forget the Doctor's portrayal of him in that one Christmas special. Or Data's from Star Trek: The Next Generation. Spock from the original series even quotes him at some point, stating that he's a descendant of Holmes._

_I'm just saying that you don't have to perfectly portray the Holmes from the ACD books. You can be your own special version. One of a kind. You can still be utterly brilliant (because, let's face it, you are) and still like chemistry and detective work, but you can also make friends and have a pet and play music other than the violin. I've heard you practicing piano before and I think with a little tutoring you could become just as brilliant as you are on your violin. I'm jealous of your musical talent, Sherlock. If I wasn't tone deaf beyond belief I would definitely attempt the piano. But, alas, the musical talent lies in you._

_Sorry. Got a bit off track. Like I was saying, you can still be your own special version of Sherlock. Make him your own. Make him you. Reach out of your comfort zone and try to find something new you like. Now, you don't have to do this, but I think it might be good for you. Who knows? Maybe you'll even make a friend._

_Right. You're probably wondering about the dog. Well, I picked him up at a shelter. He was going to be your surprise after we'd gotten our ice cream. I was going to let you pick one out yourself, but I saw this beautiful boy and I knew he would be perfect for you. The people at the shelter said he's about four or five months old and he's already trained to do his business outside, but I left some matts down just in case he needed to go before you came home._

_Speaking of which, please come home soon. I want to say goodbye to you before I leave for uni. I won't be able to come back until the Christmas holidays as my uni is so far away. Please, Sherlock. I'm so sorry. Please come back so we can have a proper goodbye and leave on somewhat better terms. If we don't get a chance to say goodbye, I'll call you as soon as I'm settled in my dormitory. Just... please come back. Please. I hope you're alright. Please be alright._

_If you aren't back by now, I'm sure the dog has made a mess of the floor. He might need some fresh food and water as well. You can name him whatever you wish. He's your dog. And he's also my goodbye present to you. Please take care of him and think of me. Maybe teach him some tricks so you can show him off when I come back for Christmas. Please take care of yourself, Sherlock. I'll see you soon, though not soon enough._

_All my love,_

_Myc x_

* * *

 

Sherlock felt like his world was crashing down upon him. He'd been an idiot. He should have been there to give his brother a proper send-off. His brother's words made his heart clench painfully in his chest. He was right, of course. He could be his own version. When worded like that, it sounded wonderful.

A choked sob passed from his lips and he looked down at the puppy. "Come here boy," he whispered. "Let's get a proper look at you."

The pup whined and ambled over on wobbly legs. He butted his head against Sherlock's hand and licked his fingers.

"What shall I call you? You're a fine animal so you need an equally fine name." The pup yipped and licked Sherlock's palm.

"Hmmm." Sherlock bit his lip. He glanced around his room for ideas. His eyes caught a glimpse of his second favourite book ; Treasure Island. He grinned at the puppy. "I know exactly what I'll call you. You shall be named something fit for a pirate. I'll call you... Redbeard!" The pup yipped again and wagged its tail. Sherlock scooped the young pup into his arms and laughed softly.

"Hello, Redbeard. Welcome to the madhouse." Redbeard licked at Sherlock's cheeks and nose, squirming slightly in his arms as his tail wagged madly.

A shiver ran down Sherlock's spine and he coughed loudly. "Ugh. I hope I'm not getting sick. Right before school too. Just my luck." He pressed a kiss to the puppy's head. "At least I've got you to make me feel better." Redbeard whined and pressed his cold nose against Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock coughed again and groaned. "I better get out of my clothes boy." He placed the pup down on his bed and began to strip down to his boxers. Redbeard curled up on the bed and began to doze.

Sherlock smiled and gently stroked Redbeard's head. "Good boy."

It was then that his mother wandered in carrying a cup of hot chocolate. He took it, his hands shaking. She smiled at him sympathetically and went to sit on the bed by the new puppy. She stroked his head softly.

"Do you like him?" She asked Sherlock quietly.

"I love him so much mummy." Sherlock sniffled. "I wish I hadn't run away. I wish I'd come home in time to thank him."

"Why did you run off, hun?" Mrs Holmes asked softly. "Myc only told his side. I'd like to hear yours."

"I ran off because of a lot of things. Myc was just the last straw."

Mrs Holmes looked down at her hands in shame.

"Was my threatening to send you to therapy part of why you ran away?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sherlock swallowed thickly, tears prickling his eyes. "Yes it was. I'm sorry mummy."

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. The new pup whined and rested his head on her thigh. She pet him to console them both.

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered. "I... I thought that maybe there might have been something wrong with you. Depression, social anxiety, something like that. I thought that maybe there was a psychological reason for your isolating yourself."

"There's nothing wrong with me! I'm a normal boy! A normal boy mummy. Why won't you believe me?"

"I know, baby. I know. I'm sorry. I just worry about you. I can't help it. I'm your mother. It comes with the job."

"Just...Don't make me go to therapy. Accept that I'm happy with no friends."

"OK," Mrs Holmes said. "I'm still going to worry about you though. I'll always worry about you."

"I know, but I'm growing up. I need the same freedom that you gave Mycroft when he was my age."

"OK. C'mere." She held her arms open for him. He leaned into the hug, beginning to shake from the cold.

"I'm getting sick," he complained.

"Why don't you take a shower and then come downstairs for some soup? I'll watch over your new puppy."

Sherlock nodded. "Alright. I'm just going to finish this hot chocolate, then I'll have a shower. You'll take good care of Redbeard, right?"

"Of course." She scratched the pup's ears. "Redbeard, huh?"

"Yeh, you know, like a pirate. "

"I know," she said. "I'll meet you downstairs in a bit, yeh?"

"Yeh, " Sherlock coughed out. "See you in a bit."

Mrs Holmes scooped the pup into her arms and pressed a quick kiss to Sherlock's head.

"See you soon, baby. Feel better."

"Ok mummy." Sherlock smiled, sipping at his hot chocolate. "Tell Myc I'm sorry? I didn't mean to yell and I shouldn't have run away."

"You can tell him yourself. He said he'd call when he was settled. But that won't be until later tonight."

"Why didn't he look for me? I didn't run that far away. Why didn't he look?"

"He did. But you know how much he dislikes physical activity. He tried to call you but you didn't answer. He told us not to call the police until morning, in case you hadn't come home by then. So, we waited until Myc had left before we panicked and called the police. I'm just so glad you're OK."

"He doesn't like physical activity? That's a weak excuse."

"It was my excuse for him." She looked down at the pup in her arms. "He told me he was giving you the benefit of the doubt and that you'd come home on your own because he knew you wanted to say goodbye to him. I don't know who he was more disappointed in when that didn't happen: you, or himself."

"I was so scared." Sherlock whispered. "I wasn't able to move. I couldn't get up. I was just...stiff ridged with emotion. I couldn't have come home earlier, even if I had wanted to."

Mrs Holmes frowned. "Why were you so scared, baby?"

"I didn't want to go to therapy, I wanted people to stop telling me that I'm not Sherlock Holmes, I wasn't sure if I could even return after I ran away from Myc, and I was in a freezing cold alleyway that probably held more guests than just rats."

Mrs Holmes froze. "What sort of guests?" She asked, her voice tense.

"I think you know exactly what I mean mummy. Don't worry. They barely glanced my way. They were too high. It practically felt like I was alone in that alleyway."

Mrs Holmes put the pup on the bed and wrapped her arms around her son in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she choked out. "I was so worried you were going to be hurt or worse. I can't tell you enough how glad I am that you're OK. I just... Please don't do that again. Please don't run away because you think it's the best solution. Talk to me. I'm here to listen."

"Am I OK?" Sherlock asked before bursting into a coughing fit. "I'm cold and I'm sick. I'm sorry mummy. I promise not to run away again."

"Sick and alive is better than dead," Mrs Holmes said softly. "I can get you in to see a doctor tomorrow if you want."

Sherlock groaned and pulled a face. "I hate doctors. I'll be ok. I just need to sleep."

"Food and a bath first," his mum said. "No exceptions."

"K." Sherlock sniffled. "Can you charge my phone for me when I'm in the bath? I want to blog tonight."

"Sure. Just don't stay on too long. You should get some sleep. OK?"

"I'll try not to but I like to check out my blog before I sleep."

"OK," she whispered. "I'll go run you a bath."

"Ok." He smiled gratefully and sipped at his hot chocolate, humming.

"Come along, Redbeard," Mrs Holmes said. The pup ambled along behind her, tripping over his big feet.

Sherlock drank the rest of his hot chocolate before wandering out to the bathroom. His mum was running him a warm bath.

"Did you want some bubbles?" She asked when he wandered in.

Sherlock shook his head. "I won't be in the bath for long. I just want to sleep."

"OK. I'll make you some soup when you wake up."

"Ok." Sherlock croaked out. "Look after Redbeard. He's all I've got left of Myc."

"It's not like Myc's dead, love. He said he'll call when he's settled. If you're still asleep, do you want me to wake you so you can talk to him?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Dunno. Depends how I'm feeling."

"OK. Well, enjoy your bath. I'll feed the dog and bring him back up to you? Did you want to sleep with him?"

Sherlock nodded and bent to pet Redbeard. "I want to, yes. He'll need to be taken outside before he makes a mess."

"Of course. I'll get him taken care of and bring him back to you."

"Thanks mummy. I'm gonna be in the bath. Don't be long. I might fall asleep in the tub."

"OK. I'll wake you if you do. I'll help you into bed too. Now go warm up in your bath. I'll be back soon."

Sherlock waited for him mum to leave, before he stripped from his boxers and slipped into the warm bath. He sighed in satisfaction and leant his head back, his eyes closing.

* * *

 

Mrs Holmes let the pup out back so he could run around the yard and do his business.

"Vi? That you?" Mr Holmes called out from the sitting room.

"Yes, Nate. It's me."

"C'mere a sec. I want to talk about Sherlock."

Violet sighed softly and wandered into the lounge. "I don't know what we're going to do with that boy."

"Is he OK?" Mr Holmes asked. "He wasn't hurt at all? He didn't do anything... illicit?"

"He doesn't appear hurt, and there's no signs that he did anything reckless. He's coming down with something due to spending the night in the cold though."

"Oh. Good" He breathed out in relief. "Well, a cold or the flu we can deal with. Thank God he wasn't hurt though."

"I'm angry at our eldest. Mycroft should have looked for him. I keep on making excuses for him but truthfully...He was just too unfit and lazy to search for him. Sherlock must have been terrified."

"Did he ever say where he was the whole time?"

"He said...said he was hidden in an alleyway. He was too frightened to move."

"Geez." Mr Holmes sat back in his chair. "He was there all night? Why didn't he try to come home sooner?"

"I don't know." Mrs Holmes sniffled. "Perhaps he doesn't feel welcome here anymore. We've been so hard on him lately."

"We never should have encouraged the boys to become their characters," Mr Holmes sighed. "That was a mistake. They should have been allowed to be when they wanted to be. Not a fictional character."

"I still think he needs help. We can fix it. It's not too late for Sherlock. If we get him help... we can make him better. He can be whoever he wants to be."

"He's 14, Vi. He's reached that stubborn age where he thinks he already knows who he is. You can't change him until he's ready to change."

"He's our little boy. Don't we owe it to him to fix this? I'm...I'm worried about him."

"Why do you think he needs to be fixed? He's a boy, not a machine."

"I'm worried about what path he's going to go down. Could you talk to him? Please? "

"I suppose." Mr Holmes looked to the back door when he heard scratching. "Let the dog in, love."

Mrs Holmes smiled and opened up the door. Redbeard ran in, yipping and barking in excitement.

"I think Redbeard will do this family some good."

"Yeah." Mr Holmes smiled. "I think he will too." He looked up at his wife, a wide grin on his face. "Sherlock named him Redbeard?"

"Yes." She grinned. "Our son loves pirates. I've been thinking that maybe when he's older, we can buy him a boat. He loves the sea. He says that it calms him."

"I can take him out on the yacht when the weather warms up," Mr Holmes offered.

"That would be great, love." She pecked him on the lips. "You two need to bond. Your relationship...well...it's become rather strained."

"Yeah. I know. Hey. Why don't I help him get into bed? I imagine he'd want to sleep after his long night."

"Yes, that would be wonderful. Make sure he's not on his phone for too long. I know he likes to check up on his blog but if he's getting sick then he needs to rest."

"OK." Mr Holmes stood and stretched, groaning slightly. "Ugh. I'm getting old."

"Nonsense dear." Violet wrapped her arms around his waist. "You've...still got some good years left in you. If you know what I mean."

Mr Holmes grinned at her and kissed her deeply. "God, I love you," he breathed out when they broke apart.

She smiled knowingly. "I love you too. You know...Sherlock will probably want a long soak to warm up. We could take this time to be alone together."

"Yeah?" He purred and swept her up into his arms. She giggled and he carried her away to their bedroom.

* * *

Sherlock didn't bother waiting for his mum to return. He was exhausted, and although the warm bath had helped to soothe his muscles, all he wanted to do now was sleep.

He got out of the bath with a groan and pulled the plug, draining the dirty water. He towelled himself reasonably dry and wrapped it around himself.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, he heard a small whine. Redbeard was stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking extremely sad. He wanted to get to Sherlock but his tiny legs meant that climbing the stairs seemed like a terrifying prospect.

"What are you doing boy?" Sherlock asked softly. Making sure his towel was tucked around him extra tight, he padded down the stairs and picked the small pup up. Redbeard barked and licked his nose and he laughed.

When his ears caught wind of the squeaks of a bed and heavy breathing, his stomach turned and his face scrunched up in disgust. There should be a law against parents having sex whilst their children were still in hearing distance.

He quickly hurried to his room. He made sure Redbeard was provided with enough food and water, before changing himself into a pair of warm pyjamas.

He took his phone off of charge and crawled into bed. He logged onto tumblr to see if he had any new messages. There was a new message from the John Watson character.

_I saw someone wearing a deerstalker out in public today. It made me roll my eyes in disgust. Thought you'd want to know._

Sherlock snorted and replied.

**_I like to call them death frisbee hats._ **

John nearly choked on his drink when he saw the reply in his inbox. A private reply, not published, but a reply nonetheless. He set his beer down and typed out a sloppy reply.

_Hol shiy. U tlk t me now? Zz awsum!_

Sherlock frowned and shook his head. His mind was fuzzy and the bed was swaying beneath him. He couldn't make sense of the reply.

_**I'm sorry. What?** _

_Srry btdrnk 2mualkhall cnnt tpe_

**_I'm not well. I don't understand. Type that again. In English preferably._ **

John took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on his typing.

_Been drnkng. Cant type gud._

Sherlock sighed.

**_Great. The one time I needed to speak to someone and that someone is drunk._ **

_Iz a Frday. An iz lyke 1 am. I cn drnk if I wanna._

**_Whatever. Forget I contacted you. My shit doesn't matter anyway._ **

_Wha? Why? Tlk t me. Pleas?_

**_Doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore._ **

Sherlock turned off his phone and fell into an uneasy sleep.

_Hey! Dont sa tht! Com bck! r u gon b ok?! Cm bck!_


	3. A Family Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: M/F sex. Vomit. Illness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I hope that your weekend is good so far. I'm about to pop out to the cinema with my sister but I wanted to update this fic first. 
> 
> Till next time, 
> 
> MBC

"Like I said...there's a few good years left in you yet." Violet moaned softly. "Whatever you do don't stop, love."

"Hopefully more than a few," Mr Holmes purred.

"Again?" She asked, soft and surprised.

"Waste not what not,' Mr Holmes grit out. 'I'm still hard after that first orgasm. I'm not going to let this erection flag until I've gotten at least one more out of it."

Violet kissed the side of his neck gently. "Go ahead. You know how much I love seeing you all worked up."

Nate chuckled and kissed his wife deeply. She smiled against his lips. "Nate... could we maybe...never mind."

"Could we what, Vi?" Nate asked, pausing.

"It's ridiculous, dear. Forget it. Come on, don't stop." She wiggled back on his cock encouragingly.

"No. Tell me. Please?"

She bit her lip. "What if we were to try for another...baby."

"Oh?" Nate grinned down at her. "You want another? After all this time?"

She nodded and smiled bashfully. "Yes, I do. Soon Sherlock will be sailing off into the world. I just want a baby to hold and love Nate. It's a big ask. I'm sorry."

"No. I understand." He caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "It's been 14 years since we last had a baby. It's been a long time. And we aren't getting any younger. Is a baby what you really want?"

"Please Nate. Give me a baby. I want one so much."

He smiled lovingly down at his wife. She wanted another child so badly. He'd give her one. Oh boy would he gave her one. He pulled her in for a deep kiss and his thrusting picked up again.

"Yes," he growled into the kiss. "Yes. I'll give you another baby."

Violet moaned wantonly and closed her eyes, her hands sliding to her middle. "Please, please, please." She begged as he fucked her into the mattress.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Nate chanted as he worked himself toward a climax that would hopefully give his beautiful wife another baby.

Violet shuddered around Nate's cock, so close to orgasming. She gripped her husband's shoulders tight as she waited for the inevitable.

Nate pressed his lips by Violet's ear and whispered, "Cum for me, Vi," seductively down her ear.

Violet arched and moaned pitifully as she came. "Oh Nate! Oh god!"

"Fuck! Fuck! Vi!" Nate cried as he plummeted over the edge and into orgasm.

"Oh my god...that was...amazing."

"Thanks," Nate said jokingly. He pressed a kiss to Violet's neck and chuckled. "You weren't so bad yourself." He whistled. "Damn. I have one fine as hell wife."

She chuckled softly. "Thanks, and thank you for wanting to try for another child. Maybe we'll have a little girl this time."

"A little girl would be wonderful." Nate nuzzled Violet's nose and chuckled happily.

"It might take a while." She whispered. "We're getting on after all."

"I know. But we'll keep trying. I want to give you that baby."

"What do you think our boys will make of having another sibling?"

"I'm not sure. Mycroft might be elated. But Sherlock? Geez. I don't know."

"He's used to being the baby of the family. Do you think it'll...upset him?"

"Perhaps. But I guess we'll find out when you're pregnant."

She beamed at him. "Do you remember what it felt like to hold your baby for the first time? It's so magical. I can't wait to feel that again."

"I know. It will be so wonderful."

"I think you should check on Sherlock. He's not feeling well. As much as I want to continue what we're doing, we should concentrate on the children we already have. Mycroft is supposed to be calling soon too, so keep your ear out for the phone."

"Yeah. Alright." Nate kissed Violet before he got out of bed and redressed. He opened the door and quietly ascended the stairs to go check on Sherlock.

* * *

 

Sherlock was tossing and turning in bed. He was too hot one minute and too cold the next. Whatever illness he was coming down with was hitting him hard. He kicked his covers off and lay on his front, shivering, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. Redbeard was lapping at his hand and whining softly, trying to comfort the teenager.

Mr Holmes peered into Sherlock's room, not wanting to disturb him if he was asleep. He frowned slightly when he saw Sherlock sleeping with the covers off. He crept into the bathroom and grabbed some cold pills and a glass of water. He crept back into his son's room and sat on the edge of his bed.

"Hey," he whispered. He gently nudged Sherlock's shoulder in an attempt to rouse him enough to take medicine. "I brought you some meds. Think you can take them?" Sherlock didn't wake up. He just groaned and curled himself up into a small ball, shaking like a leaf. "Sherlock?"

Mr Holmes placed the pills and water on the bedside table and tried to rouse him. "Sherlock, wake up. You don't look good, son."

Sherlock rolled over and kicked out his back legs with a huff. "I'm ill." He stated, his voice slurred because of his feverish state.

"I know," Mr Holmes said softly. "I brought you some medicine. Think you can take some pills?"

Sherlock cracked open an eye and forced himself into a sitting position. "Daddy?"

" Yeah. It's me," Mr Holmes said softly. "I brought you some medicine. Can you take it for me?" Sherlock held a small hand out for the  
tablets. Mr Holmes placed the pills on Sherlock's open palm. "I brought water too," he said softly.

"Thanks." Sherlock croaked out. He placed the pills on his tongue and he awkwardly swallowed it down with a large gulp of water.

Mr Holmes smiled softly at Sherlock and smoothed his sweaty curls off his forehead."Feel better soon, yeah?" he said quietly. "Go back to sleep. I'll come back to check on you in a bit."

"K. Gimme Redbeard. Wanna hug him."

"OK."He scooped the sleeping pup into his arms and placed him down by Sherlock's chest. "Sleep well, Sherlock. I'll be back later."

  
"Has...has Mycroft called?"

"Not yet. Do you want me to wake you when he does?"

Sherlock nodded into his pillow. "Please. I wanna talk to him."

"OK," Mr Holmes whispered. He pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock's forehead. "I'll wake you when he calls. You should get some sleep."

Sherlock grunted, falling into a restless sleep, hoping that Mycroft would call soon.

* * *

 

Mr Holmes left him to sleep. He went back downstairs and found Violet in the sitting room, knitting.

"Hello dear. How's our boy?"

"Ill and tired, but otherwise OK. I got him to take some medicine."

"We should check on him through the night, keep an eye on his fever."

"Yes. And he said to wake him when Mycroft calls. He wants to talk to him."

"Missing him already?" Mrs Holmes smiled warmly. "Those boys were inseparable. I don't think either wanted to Mycroft to leave for university. It's for the best though. Some time apart might allow Sherlock to discover himself."

"Perhaps," Mr Holmes said. "Maybe Sherlock will reach outside of his comfort zone and attempt to make a friend, now Myc isn't here for him to spend all his time with."

"I wish he would make a friend. Just one friend to put my mind at ease. I hate to see him so lonely and isolated. What about that Hooper girl? She's rather nice. She likes Sherlock."

"Yeah. Perhaps we should set them up on a date?"

"A date?" Mrs Holmes smirked. "Can you imagine our son dating? “

"He'll have to start sometime," Mr Holmes said, chuckling.

"It took Mycroft a while. His girl seems lovely."

"Yeah. She does. I hope the distance between them doesn't put a strain on their relationship though."

Mycroft promised to visit her on weekends. I'm sure he'll keep his promise."

"Yeh. He's really good at keeping his promises."

Mrs Holmes perked up when she heard the phone ringing. "Speaking of which. Can you get that please, dear?"

Mr Holmes went over to the landline and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hello father."

"Mycroft!" Mr Holmes exclaimed happily. "Hello! Gotten yourself all settled then?"

"Yes, thank you. I've settled in fine. It's lovely here. A breath of fresh air from normal life. Um..." Mycroft paused for a moment. "Did Sherlock return? "

"Yes. Yes,"Mr Holmes told him. "He's been back for a few hours now. He's sleeping now, but he said he wanted to be woken to talk to you. Do you want me to wake him up?"

"Yes, yes! Please get him. I need to talk to him."

"Alright. Here. Speak to your mother for a moment whilst I get him." He handed the phone to Violet and went upstairs to fetch Sherlock.

"Sherlock?" he said softly upon entering the boy's room. The boy was curled up around his new puppy, both fast asleep. "Sherlock?" He sat on the end of the bed and gently shook Sherlock's hip to try and rouse him. "Sherlock, wake up."

Sherlock whimpered and pressed against the hand that was shaking him. "Leath m' awone." He complained, his voice edged with a slight lisp.

"Sherlock," Mr Holmes said gently. "Mycroft's on the phone. He wants to talk to you."

"Sick." Sherlock groaned. "Going to be sick.”

"Need me to take you to the loo?"

"Too late." Sherlock wheezed out. He winced open his eyes and moved slightly, arching himself upwards onto his knees before the inevitable unfortunately happened. All the ice cream his brother had bought him was now coming up. His sick was mainly liquidy. The ice cream and pop had been the only thing in his stomach. He wretched till there was nothing left.

"Shit," Mr Holmes groaned. "I'll get a mop."

Sherlock whimpered and shook his head. "Don't go, please!"

"Do you want to lie in your own vomit?" Mr Holmes asked sarcastically. "No? I didn't think so. How about I take you to the bathroom and you can clean up?"

"I want to talk t' Myc!"

"You can talk to him if you promise to wash up as soon as you're done."

"I promise. I just want to speak to him. Please."

"OK. C'mere." He picked Sherlock up so he was cradled in his arms and carried him downstairs. Violet was still chatting with Mycroft about what courses he planned to take.

Sherlock wriggled weakly in his father's arms. "Give me the phone! Myc! Myc!"

"OK, sweetie," Mrs Holmes said. "My, Sherlock's here to speak to you. Yeah, OK. I'll talk to you later. Bye! I love you!" She passed the phone to Sherlock who eagerly snatched it out of her hand.

"Myc?" Sherlock rasped out weakly. "That you?"

"Yeah, it's me," Mycroft said softly. "You sound terrible, Lock."

"Spent my night in cold and wet. I think it’s fair to say I got a bit sick."

"Oh, Sherlock," Mycroft said softly. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK. I shouldn't have run off."

"I shouldn't have said those things to you." Mycroft sighed into the receiver. "I'm sorry."

"Why...why didn't you look for me? I didn't run that far away. You could have easily found me."

"I didn't know how far you'd run," Mycroft said. "I know that when you run, you run far. I thought maybe you had run back home to shut yourself in your room. That's why I wasn't so worried about finding you until I'd gotten home myself."

"But you.. you could have searched for me after. You could have gone back to look for me."

"I... I thought you would come home on your own," Mycroft said quietly.

"I did but now I'm ill. You should have looked for me."

"I know," Mycroft whispered. "I should have. I'm sorry I'm so sorry. I'm fat and lazy and I couldn't even look for my own brother. I'm so sorry. You must hate me."

"I don't hate you. I just wish I could have said goodbye. I miss you so much. And Redbeard does too."

"Redbeard?" Mycroft smiled. "Is that what you named the pup? Do you like him?"

"Yeh. He's very handsome. I don’t think he liked me throwing up though. It must have woken him up."

"You were sick? You should be in bed, Sherlock. Go. I'll call again later. Go get better. I don't want you to get worse because of me."

"No!" Sherlock yelled sharply, clutching the phone tighter in his hands. "Don't go! Please talk to me."

"OK. OK," Mycroft said softly. 'Calm down. I'm right here, Lock. I'll stay and talk to you."

"I want you back!" Sherlock sobbed. "Come back Myc!"

"I can't, Sherlock. I can't," Mycroft said softly. His heart was breaking at how utterly broken his little brother sounded. "I have to go to uni. I promise to come home for Christmas. I promise. I'll have a Skype chat with you when you're feeling better, OK? Then you can see my face and I can give you a tour of my dormitory. How's that sound?"

Sherlock swallowed down deep breaths of air. "Can't you visit more often?" He asked in a small voice. "I want to see you.”

"I... I can try to visit for the weekend in a couple of weeks. How about that?"

"A couple of weeks?!"Sherlock began to cry into his father's shirt softly, his little heart breaking in his chest. His brother was his only friend, and now said friend had left him for a new life.

"Sherlock? Sherlock!" Mycroft's voice could be heard through the receiver but no one was paying him any attention. The Holmes family were too busy trying to console Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't calm down. Quite the opposite in fact. He screamed and cried and kicked out against his father's chest. It was probably the fever making his emotions so vivid, but that still didn't change the fact that he missed his big brother terribly.

Mr Holmes carried Sherlock upstairs and ran him another bath. Mrs Holmes picked up the phone.

"Mycroft, dear, we'll have to call you back. Sherlock isn't doing so well right now."

"Ok. I-" Mycroft was cut off by the sharp sound of the line ending. "Oh...um...alright."


	4. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Illness. Mentions of sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you're having a good weekend. I just finished some of my university work. So to celebrate I thought I would update this fic. 
> 
> Till next time,

Mrs Holmes went upstairs to check on Sherlock. He was currently in the tub, Mr Holmes washing his hair.

"How is he doing?"

"Not good." Mr Holmes shook his head. "He's burning up badly and his temperature doesn't seem to be going down."

"Should we take him to hospital?" Violet asked. "They'll be able to do much more for him than us."

"Yeh. I'm thinking we should. Can you go get Redbeard? The puppy shouldn't be left alone. He'll make a mess. We'll have to find someone to take care of him. You might want to clear up his sick too."

"I'm sure Mrs Turner next door can watch the pup. And I'll clean up and meet you at hospital. Go. Get my baby to a doctor."

Mr Holmes nodded and picked up the small and shaking boy. He just about managed to get Sherlock into a set of clothes. The boy wasn't being helpful. He was kicking and screaming bloody murder.

"It's alright boy. We'll soon get you checked out. Let's see what all this is about."

Violet smoothed a hand through Sherlock's hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'll be right behind you, baby,' she said softly. 'We're going to get you better."

"I hope this isn't too serious. I'm hoping for just a bad case of the flu at best."

"Me too. But if it's pneumonia we can deal with that as well. Go. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Mr Holmes pecked her on the cheek. Tugging their son close, he began to make his way out of the house.

* * *

 

Violet went into Sherlock's room and snatched Redbeard away from the vomit on the bed. He'd been eating it. Redbeard whined softly. His eyes were round and sad.

"That's gross and unsanitary," Violet told him. "No." She put him down on the floor and folded up Sherlock's dirty sheets into a big bundle, taking them to the laundry room to be cleaned. She made a quick call to Mrs Turner next door and asked if she could puppy-sit for a few hours. She said yes, naturally, and said she'd be over in a few. Violet told her to let herself in. She'd given the woman a key to the house years ago as she was always the one looking over the house whenever the family went on holiday together.

* * *

 

Sherlock had gone quiet in the back of his father's car. He stared out of the window, caught in a daze. He pressed his hot skin against the cool glass and whimpered softly. He wasn't sure what was going on.

"You're going to be OK," his dad assured him. "You're going to be OK. I swear on my life."

"What's wrong with me daddy?" Sherlock whispered softly.

"Your fever is too high, and I just wanted to be sure you don't have pneumonia or something. But you're gonna be OK. I know you are."

"I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have...have stayed out so late."

"No, no, no," Mr Holmes said softly. "This isn't your fault."

"It is though!"

"No, Sherlock, it's not," Mr Holmes said sternly. "It's mine because I didn't go out looking for you myself when Mycroft came home *alone* and with a goddamn puppy no less. This is my fault."

Sherlock sniffled and wrapped his arms around himself. "Mycroft didn't go back to look for me. Why?"

"Because he's fat and lazy and couldn't be arsed to move,"Mr Holmes bit out before he could stop himself.

Sherlock bit his lip. "He says he's going try and get healthy. I think he feels guilty."

"I'm sure he does,"Mr Holmes grumbled. "And maybe he'll hold onto his girl if he looses weight. They've been drifting apart as of late. I'm worried they'll break up."

"That's not gonna happen. He loves cake too much." Sherlock frowned. "Does he love food more than me? "

Mr Holmes frowned. "No. Don't be ridiculous."

"We'll soon see." Sherlock wiped at his nose and sniffled. "I think he's planning on getting thinner by Christmas. I don’t know if he'll do it though. If he cares he will."

"Precisely," Mr Holmes said. They finally arrived at the local hospital and he carried Sherlock inside.

The boy was tended to, warmed up, given an IV until the doctors could find out what was wrong with him, and given some hot broth to help sooth his throat.

Sherlock sipped at the broth and hummed. "How much longer daddy? I just want to be back at home with Redbeard."

"Maybe an hour. And don't worry. Redbeard is being taken care of. Hopefully your mum will be here soon too. She was really worried about you."

"I feel a bit better now. Still all hot and sticky. I feel a bit sick but just the dizzy sort of sick, you know?"

"Yeah. I know."

* * *

 

Mrs Holmes burst into the room they were keeping Sherlock in and raced over to her youngest son, checking his temperature and pulse before relaxing. She pressed a loving kiss to his forehead and sighed in relief.

"I was so worried about you," she said. "How are you feeling? Any better?"

"Still sick but a bit better. I think it's probably because of the drip the nice nurse hooked me up to."

"Good. That's wonderful, baby."

"I just want go home now though. They don't think it's too serious now my temperature is under control. They told me I need to sleep and rest because my body is fighting a virus."

"Yeah? Good. That's good. Have they prescribed you any medicine? An antibiotic maybe?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I don’t know... I wasn't really listening. I'm sorry. "

"Well I'll be sure and ask when your doctor comes back." She pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock's temple. "I'm glad you're doing better, baby."

Sherlock smiled at his mum. "Me too. I still feel a bit too hot though. They said it might take me a while to fully recover."

"Yeah. You probably caught a nasty bug. You should feel better soon though."

" I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stayed out all night. It's my fault I'm sick."

"No, baby. No," she said softly. "This isn't your fault."

"It is. I'm a stupid brat."

"No, you're not, baby." Mrs Holmes sat beside him and pulled him in for a tender hug." You can be a bit of a handful sometimes, but you are not a brat. You're a growing boy and a teenager. You're bound to have the occasional mood swing during puberty."

"I hate being a teenager."

"You won't be one in a few years. It will pass like that." She snapped her fingers. "So don't you worry."

"I can't wait. I just want to be a man, not a boy. "

"And you will be, love. One day very soon."

"Then you can finally live your life. You'll have no more children to look after."

"Yeh." Mrs Holmes chewed her bottom lip. "No more kids. It might actually be lonely. My nest will be empty."

"Your nest?"

"Yes. My home is my nest and you're my baby bird."

Sherlock laughed. Really laughed. "You're funny mummy. "

She smiled, the first bright and genuine smile since Sherlock came home. She laughed and laughed, pulling her son in for a hug.  
"Thank you, baby," she said when she stopped laughing. "I really needed that."

He smiled and blinked. "Needed what mummy?"

"Needed a good laugh, baby," she said. She smoothed a hand through Sherlock's hair and kissed his temple. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too mummy."

Violet hummed softly and began petting Sherlock's hair, her fingers combing through his long locks.  
"I think it's time for a trim, dear," she said. "Your hair is getting all tangled."

"No." Sherlock whined. "I like it long. It makes me look like a pirate."

Violet chuckled softly. "OK, baby. It can stay long."

Sherlock smiled up at his mother. He felt a lot better now, though his body was still slightly feverish,and he was exhausted from his ordeal. Becoming better should have been a comfort to him, but instead Sherlock just felt sad. His smile dropped from his face. Now that he was feeling better his parents would probably want to send him to school tomorrow. School meant two things: Bullies and loneliness.

It was at school that he felt the most alone. He was the kid stuck in the corner on his own, the weirdo, the freak, the boy who had the ability to deduce the world around him. He stuck out like a sore thumb on the school playground. He was different.

His fellow pupils constantly reminded him of how different he was. When he was younger it had been harmless, really, just a few awful names thrown his way. Now that he was older he had a lot more to worry about. The older boys liked to push him around. He managed to hide his bruises away from his parents but it was inevitable that at some point one of the boys would break his nose, or worse, actually kill him.

No one wanted him, not even the hipster boy on tumblr wanted him. Sherlock had resigned himself to never finding his John Watson. Perhaps his parents and brother were right. He wasn't Sherlock Holmes, he was so much worse. He was a fraud trying to palm himself off as Sherlock Holmes.

Maybe...maybe he didn't deserve a friend.

"Sweetie?" Mrs Holmes asked softly. "Sweetie, are you OK?"

"I'm fine." Sherlock sighed. "I just don't want to go back to school because..." he almost told her about the bullies and his isolation but he stopped himself. "It's dull. School is dull."

"You're too sick to go back to school right now," Violet said. "You won't have to worry about a thing for a while."

"Oh." Sherlock breathed out in relief. "Oh. Ok. That's...um...good."

"Yeah. It will be nice to have you home a while longer." She pressed a kiss to his forehead again.

"Can we go home now?"

"As soon as the doctor says you can, yes," Mrs Holmes said. "But I'm fairly certain you have to finish your IV before you can leave." She pointed to the bag that Sherlock was attached to.

"Can I just sleep here?"

"Yes. Go ahead. Get some rest. Your father and I will stay here and watch over you."

"Night mummy. Night daddy."

"G'night, Sherlock," Mr Holmes whispered.

"Goodnight, baby," Mrs Holmes whispered. "I love you."

Sherlock drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

Mrs Holmes turned to her husband, her bottom lip trembling. "Is our baby boy going to be ok? He looks so small and pale in that hospital bed."

"He might need another IV of fluids, but he should be OK," Mr Holmes said softly. "The nurse said he was extremely dehydrated."

Mrs Holmes moved so that she was resting her head upon her husband's shoulder. "Our baby is growing up so fast. Remember when he was younger? If he was ill he always asked me to read him a bedtime story. I miss having someone to baby."

"I'm sure he wouldn't object to you reading to him now," Mr Holmes whispered.

"You don't know our boy then." She sighed softly. "Lately he hasn't wanted me to read to him. He only wants Mycroft."

"Oh." Nate frowned. "I guess I really haven't been spending enough time with him. Geez. I feel like I've been a terrible dad."

"Nonsense. You're not a terrible dad. You work hard to put food on our plates and clothes on our backs. Sherlock is growing up, that's all. He doesn't need so much babying. He's starting to want and need his own space. It's fine. It's all part of becoming a man. He needs to find his own two feet."

"Well, perhaps I should spend more time with him teaching him manly things." Nate smirked down at Violet. "Like how to repair broken washing machines, or fix an engine, or woo a woman."

"I think he'd like that. He wants to be treated less like a boy and more like a man. Perhaps it's time we give him that."

"Of course. We can do that." Nate pulled her in for a hug and kissed her hair. "We can teach our boy how to be a man."

She smiled against his shoulder. "I love you, Nate. "

"I love you too, Vi," he whispered. He tilted her chin up and kissed her softly.

She sighed softly against his lips and hummed. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Funny. I was thinking the same about you."

She laughed softly. "Oh Nate. I've missed being with you like this."

"Like what?"

"Like this. Like now. We haven't had much time together lately. You've been working strange shifts.”

"Yeah. I'm trying to work my way up to a promotion. I think the extra hours are showing my boss I'm dependable. Hopefully if I get promoted, I'll be spending less time at work and more time with you and Sherlock."

"Great. The more time we have together the more often we'll be able to try for a baby. "

Nate grinned mischievously down at his wife. "We can try right now," he whispered. "Want to reenact one of our more daring sexual exploits? Sex in a public loo?"

Violet flushed. "Oh god, Nate. Really? We're not teenagers anymore."

"Doesn't mean we can't still act like it." He waggled his eyebrows. "Want to give it a shot?"

"OK. Come on. Let's go. Before Sherlock wakes up."

Nate grinned coyly and grabbed Violet's hand. He led her to the nearest men's loo and snuck her inside. 


	5. Mr and Mrs Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: F/M sex. Mentions of fertility issues. Mentions of Biphobia and bullying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> It's been a very stressful time for me this week. And now I've pulled my back so it hurts to stand up. I thought I might as well update this fic, seeing as I have the time. This is quite a racy chapter, so if you wish to skip this one, please do. You have been warned. 
> 
> Till next time, 
> 
> -MBC

"How do you want to do this?" He asked her. "Me sitting on the loo and you sitting on me, or did you want to try this standing up?"

"The first option sounds a lot more comfortable." She smirked and leaned up to kiss his neck.

Nate groaned and melted into a puddle at her feet. Almost 20 years of marriage and she still had such a powerful effect on him.He groaned and eased her down. He didn't remember when or how they'd removed enough clothing to be able to have sex, nor did he remember sitting on the loo. All he knew was that his beautiful wife and mother of his children was fucking herself on his cock in a public loo.

“Give me a baby Nate."

"Yes, yes," Nate moaned. He thrust into her quickly, wanting to cum so that they could get off without getting into trouble.

“Oh Nate. I love you! Please give me a baby. "

"Yes! Yes! I'll give you a baby! Fuck!"

Violet screamed as a mind blowing orgasm swept through her. Her whole body seemed to tremble as she clung onto Nate for dear life. They weren’t teenagers anymore but they still acted as though they were. Nate clamped a hand over her mouth to try and stifle her scream. He grunted as his own orgasm began and he filled his wife with his seed.

Exhausted Violet collapsed against him, her fingernails still pressed up against his shoulders.  
  
"Bloody hell, Vi," Nate whispered. "That was quite a scream. I haven't heard you scream that loud since we were trying for Sherlock."

"Well this is a special occasion, isn't it? Trying for another baby."

"It certainly is." Nate pulled her in for a kiss. "We should clean up before someone finds us."

"Not up for another round then?" She asked teasingly.

"Not right now," Nate whispered. "I'm spent. Later. I promise. At home when Sherlock's safe and warm in his bed."

"OK." She pressed a kiss to her husband's nose. "I'll hold you to that promise."

"I rarely go back on my promises," Nate purred. "I'll give you that baby yet. We'll just keep trying."

"Do you remember when I got pregnant with Mycroft? We were so scared. Now look at us."

"We were so young. Of course we were scared." Nate pressed a soft kiss to Violet's neck and inhaled her scent. "But I did the right thing by sticking by you. I wasn't going to leave my little family. And look where we are now. Our little Myc's all grown up and going to university. All too soon it will be Sherlock's turn."

"Back to baby making."

"Yeah. And now we're back to baby making." Nate pulled her in for a kiss and hummed. "I love you so much, Vi."

"Love you too. Can we go now love? I don't want to get caught. "

"Yeah. Come on." He helped her to her feet and they fixed their rumpled clothes.

"I'll check to see if it's safe to leave." He unlocked the loo door and peeked out. There were a couple of disgruntled patrons at the urinals, but no security waiting to throw them out.

"OK. We're good."

She smiled and grasped hold of his hand. "Come on. Let's go before security comes."

Nate led her out of the loo and they dashed down to the canteen before anyone could catch them. Nate ducked around a corner momentarily to pull Violet in for a deep kiss.

She smiled against his lips. "You're insatiable. I can see how I got pregnant in the first place. Don't you change, don't you ever change. You're perfect."

"I won't, my love," he whispered. "Promise."

Violet reached up to her husband's face and gently ran her thumb over his slight stubble. "I'm so very glad that I met you."

Nate smiled down at her lovingly. He cupped her cheek in his hand and ran his thumb over her smooth skin. "And I'm so very glad I met you," he whispered. "You have honestly been the best thing to ever happen to me. I love you so much, Violet."

"I love you too." She whispered, blushing like a school girl. "People doubted us. They said we wouldn't last a month of married life together. Look at us now."

"Almost twenty years strong. I never doubted us for a second."

"Nor me. I knew you and I were destined to be together. Our little Mycie just gave us that extra push we needed."

"I would have proposed to you even if I hadn't knocked you up. Your pregnancy just speeded things along."

She pressed a kiss to his nose and hummed. "I'm thankful for the way things turned out."

"Yes. I am too. I love you, Violet. So much."

"I love you too, Nate. Let's go see our boy. We should be with him right now."

"Yeah. Let's go."

Hand in hand Mrs and Mrs Holmes walked to the room that their boy was being kept in. The young boy was sleeping peacefully, his fever breaking slowly but surely.

Violet went over to his bedside and smoothed Sherlock's hair out of his face.

"I wish he'd cut it," she whispered. "He's such a handsome boy. He shouldn't be hiding behind his fringe."

Nate smiled and shook his head fondly. "Leave the boy be. He needs to find his own image. We can't force him to be something he's not."

"I know. I know." Violet sighed and moved to sit on Nate's lap. "I miss having my baby boy to cuddle with. I guess I'll have to settle for you until the new baby arrives."

He chuckled softly and wrapped his arms around her. "I'll give you that baby, I swear on my life. Anything to make my gorgeous queen happy."

"Thank you, my king," she whispered.

His pressed his nose against her neck, nuzzling her gently. "We have two little princes, perhaps fate will grant us with a princess this time."

"I hope so. I'd love to have a baby girl. She'll turn you into mush."

"I turned into mush from the moment I met you."

Violet giggled and kissed his cheek. "A daughter would turn you into a puddle."

"Third time lucky, hmm?" He asked softly. "A little girl to love and to treasure."

"Hopefully," Violet whispered.

"Hey," He gently rubbed her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "We'll get a daughter, even if we have to try again after this baby."

"OK." Violet rested her head on Nate's shoulder. "Thank you. I just really want a baby girl."

"I know. A little girl would bring so much joy to our lives. I can just picture her now."

"She'll have your gorgeous blue eyes," Violet whispered.

"And your cute as a button nose.” Nate's eyes shone sadly. "I just hope I can give you all that you want. I'm getting on. What if I have fertility issues now? What if I can't fulfil your desires?"

"You're barely into your 40s," Violet said. "You won't have problems until your 60s probably."

"You don't know that. Some people struggle with fertility when they're my age."

"You aren't even 40 yet, my king. You won't have any problems conceiving. I'll see to that."

He chuckled softly. "You will, hmm?"

"Oh yes. I'll go out and buy some Viagra if I have to."

"There's no need for that." He chuckled. 

"I'll hold you to that."

"As soon as Sherlock is on the mend we can continue trying for a baby girl."

"OK. That way we can be as loud as we want without mortifying him."

Nate grinned. "I don't think he'd appreciate hearing us making him another sibling."

"He'd hate us."

"Best break the news to him gently."

"Yes, the poor dear. You never know how he might react. Myc was so happy to learn he'd have a little sibling to play with. But Sherlock isn't four like Myc was. He's 14. That's quite an age gap."

"He doesn't exactly like the company of other humans."

"But maybe a baby sister would change his mind about that."

"Maybe. He might like someone around other than his boring parents."

Violet frowned. "Are we boring, Nate?" She turned to look at him. "Is that what we've become?"

"No. Of course not. It's just, Vi, he is a teenage boy. We're going to seem boring to him. He's not into line dancing, and he doesn't like traveling yet. Those two things are our main hobbies."

"Yeah. That's true. Sherlock's going to think we're boring no matter what." She paused to think. "Maybe we should go on a holiday. Just the three of us. Well, maybe not so soon after Myc's left for uni. Travelling is probably the last thing Sherlock wants to do right now."

"Yeh. The boy needs to adjust. He was incredibly close to his brother. I'd go as far as saying he's heartbroken over Myc."

"Yeh. They were very close. Mycroft was so good to and for him. Maybe that's part of Sherlock's problem. He's heartbroken."

"He'll adjust. It isn't like he won't see Mycroft again. He'll come to realise that."

"He has Redbeard now, at the very least. Being responsible for another life might be very therapeutic for him."

"Yes. I think so too." Nate agreed. " it'll keep his mind occupied anyway."

Violet nodded and rested her head on Nate's shoulder. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too. You're my queen. You're the air in my lungs, the moon to my night, the blood pulsing in my veins. You are my heart and mind and soul. You're my limited edition novel in a room of books. You're my everything."

Violet giggled and blushed. "You always did have a way with words." She sighed happily and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "I'm so glad the boys inherited that trait. It makes them very smart and distinguished and romantic."

"Maybe it'll help them both find and keep a girl. I'd love to see them settle down with a nice woman. "

Violet hummed and closed her eyes. "Yeah. Nice young women. They had better make them happier and better men, like I did you. Only the best for our boys."

"Yeh. And they better make nice respectable husbands."

"Or else we'll set them straight. With the help of their wives."

"Do you really picture Sherlock marrying though? He's not good with changes and marriage is a hell of a big change."

"Well, even if he doesn't officially marry, I hope he finds a nice girl. He doesn't have to marry if he doesn't want to. I just want him to be happy."

"I want that too. I can't remember the last time I saw Sherlock happy."

"I think it might have been a few months ago." Violet pursed her lips as she thought back. "Myc had just completed college. Sherlock had insisted they celebrate. He had a whole party planned just for the two of them. He demanded to have the sitting room for the entire night, so of course I let him. I snuck out to check on them around 3 a.m. and saw they'd made a pillow fort. Sherlock was half asleep but was trying to stay awake because Myc was reading him Treasure Island. He had the brightest smile on his face. He was so happy." Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. She looked up at her husband and whispered, "Why hasn't he been happy, Nate? Has something happened to our baby? Have we missed something?"

Nate shook his head and pulled her tight against his chest. "He doesn't like change. His brother is moving on and he feels abandoned and lost. He's probably struggling with school. There's a ton of reasons why he isn't happy, Vi."

"What if he's being bullied?" Violet whispered. "Could that be why he spends so much time on his blog? To get away from the bullies? Is my baby being bullied?!"

"I don't know." Nate whispered. "Maybe. It's hard to tell."

"How could we have missed that?"Violet pressed her face into Nate's shoulder and began to cry. "How could I have missed that?"

"Don't cry baby. He might not be getting bullied. You might be reading it all wrong. "

Violet shook her head. "No. No. He's being bullied. He looked so scared at the prospect of going back to school. Poor grades don't put that much fear in someone's eyes. People do."

"We'll talk to him when he wakes up. I'm sure we can find out what's bothering the boy."

"If he'll tell us," Violet whispered sadly.

"Yes," Nate frowned. "Children tend to bottle things up when it comes to things like bullying." Violet sobbed softly against his shoulder.

"He'll be OK love. I was bullied when I was younger and I turned out OK."

Violet pulled back to look at her husband. "You never told me you were bullied."

"It's not exactly something I like to admit." Nate looked away from his wife, ashamed.

"Hey."Violet caressed Nate's cheek and turned his head so he was looking at her again. "It's OK. You survived your bullies. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Isn't it?" Nate asked. "I was different from the other boys Vi. Sherlock is too. Being bullied is everything to be ashamed of."

"That's not what I said," Violet said sternly. "I said not letting the bullies win is nothing to be ashamed of. While I'm sad you were bullied, I'm so proud of you for not letting them win."

"Who says the bullies didn't win?"

"Because you're still alive," Violet said softly.

"But their taunting remarks still haunt me."

"What did they say to you?" Violet asked softly.

"They..." Nate swallowed thickly. "Never mind. I can't tell you. "

Violet stroked a thumb over Nate's cheek. "You don't have to tell me it you don't want to," she said softly. "Just know that you can tell me anything."

"You...if I tell you then you'll feel differently towards me."

"No I won't. I love you. Nothing will change that."

"Vi..." Nate swallowed thickly. "I can't tell you. Christ. You'd be disgusted."

"Nathaniel Benjamin Holmes, nothing you say could ever disgust me," she said sternly.

Nate sucked in a harsh breath. "I'm bisexual."

Violet blinked. It wasn't exactly what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't the worst thing he could have told her.  
"OK," she said after a moment. "That's fine. Being bisexual is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Isn't it?" He whispered.

"No. Why are you ashamed of this? Did you think I would run away screaming?"

"I...I didn't know whether you would be accepting or not."

"Nathaniel Benjamin Holmes, I thought you would know me better by now." Violet nuzzled his cheek and sighed. "I love you, no matter your sexual preferences. I'm just happy you married me and not another devilishly handsome man like yourself."

Nate chuckled softly, brightening significantly at his wife's words. "I think I got a much better offer with you. "

"Yeah. We've had a great 20 years and two beautiful boys. And hopefully another child on the way."

"You brought happiness to me when I thought that emotion was a myth. Vi, without you I wouldn't even be here."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing you knocked me up then." Violet smiled warmly down at him. "I'm glad I met you. Uni would have been so boring without you."

Nate grinned, memories of what felt like a lifetime ago filling his mind. "We were lonely and cold... it was only logical to ask you to bed."

"And my friends tried to talk me out of it, but you were so handsome and sweet. I couldn't say no to you."

"We made love all night. I woke up with you in my arms and it felt so right. I never wanted to let you go. So I asked you back the following night. You said yes and from that night we couldn't keep our hands off each other. By the time you were knocked up I was already completely and undoubtedly in love with you."

"I wouldn't change any of that for the world," Violet whispered. "You are the best man and father. I love you so much."

Nate nuzzled her gently. "We've achieved so much. I wish everyone that doubted us could see us now. "

"I'm not sure that would make things better," Violet murmured. "We should just keep on keeping on."

"Yep. Just you and me girl till the end of the line." He pressed a kiss to the top of his wife's head.  
Violet blushed softly and rested her head on Nate's shoulder.

"Till the end of the line," she whispered.

"Remember when we saw eachother over the bonfire." He grinned goofily. "You were beautiful."

"And you were so handsome," she murmured. "Your hair was longer back then."

"I was a bit of a bad boy." He laughed. "I liked to look rough but handsome."

"And you did. It was part of what drew me to you, and why I went home with you later that night."

"I gave you my coat and we curled up against each other. Our friends both warned us about getting too close too fast but we ignored them."

"And I knew you were the one for me when I found your Sherlock Holmes collection."

"We talked til it was late and I was so scared you'd leave that I invited you to bed."

"Of course I said yes. How could I refuse you? I was just as scared as you, only my fear was because I knew I was about to lose my virginity. You made the act quite the enjoyable experience. Over and over again."

"I tried my best. I didn't want to fuck you. I wanted to make love to you. You were too precious to fuck."

Violet giggled. "You did a wonderful job," she whispered. "As you continue to do today."

"The first time was so awkward. I was nervous."

"I enjoyed myself though," Violet assured him. "I wouldn't be here now if I didn't."

"I enjoyed myself though," Violet assured him. "I wouldn't be here now if I didn't."

"That is also true." She smiled warmly at him and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Nate. With all my heart. Thank you for getting me away from that wretched bonfire. I was starting to smell like a chimney."

"I bet I didn't smell any better. I'd be fucking about with my mates. I bet I smelled like shit. But you still fell for me. Wow. My powers of romancing are strong."

"Yes. The force is strong in you." She giggled and pecked Nate's lips.

That’s when they heard the voice; it was small and distinct.

"Eww. Please don't."


	6. Getting better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock begins to recover from being ill and begins to think about whether John really cares about him. 
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of possible suicide at the very end of this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Easter break. Time for an update of this fic. I hope everyone is having a great spring, and those of you who have breaks right are having a relaxing break from school/college/university. 
> 
> Till next time.

 

Mrs Holmes stood to sit by Sherlock's bedside.

 

"Sorry, sweetie," she said softly. "Did you sleep well?"

 

"Yes but I still feel tired. Can I go home now?" 

 

"We'll talk to the doctor," she said softly. "You just get some more rest."

 

"OK." Sherlock whispered, already starting to fall asleep again.

 

Violet stood up and grabbed Nate's hand.

 

"Come on. Let's get our son out of here."

 

"Yeh. Now he's out of danger our boy should be at home recovering."

 

"Precisely. Come on." She dragged him out of Sherlock's room and they went to search for his doctor.

 

"There he is." Nate spotted the doctor and jogged up to him. "Um, excuse me?" 

 

"Yes?" He turned around and offered the man a small smile. "How can I help you?"

 

"Our son, is he fit enough to go home yet? He's feeling better and he wants to go home to recuperate."

 

"I have a lot of patients. Which one is your son?"

 

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

 

"Ah. Right. Him. Well, let's go check on him and see how he's doing."

 

Nate smiled appreciatively. "Thank you."

 

"How long has he been asleep?" He asked.

 

"He slept for above half an hour,woke up, then fell back asleep."

 

The doctor hummed and nodded. He followed the boy's parents back to his room to find the patient still sleeping. "Alright. Well, I'll just check his vitals and we'll see if he's fit to leave."

 

"Ok. Thank you."

 

The doctor nodded and began listening to Sherlock's heart. He took his pulse and blood pressure and checked the bag of saline solution the boy was hooked up to. "Once he's finished the IV you can go," he told the family.

 

"Thank you." Nate breathed out a sigh of relief  "He's going to be OK then? "

 

"Yes. Just be sure he takes his antibiotics and he should be back on his feet in no time."

 

Nate grinned. "We will. We're just glad he's alright."

 

"Yes. Well, I'll just sign his chart and give you a prescription for the antibiotic. Sorry. I have to go on my rounds in a few minutes." He scrawled his signature at the bottom of Sherlock's chart and then wrote a prescription for a generic antibiotic. He gave it to the wife and left.

 

Nate turned to his wife and pulled her into a hug.  "He's gonna be OK."

 

Violet hugged him back tight.

 

"Yeh. I know," she whispered. "Thank god."

 

"I told you he's strong. He's our son. Of course he's going to be OK."

 

Violet hummed and nodded. "Come on. Let's get this prescription filled and let's take him home."

 

"Sounds like a plan." He nudged her gently. "Looks like our little trooper is waking up again."

 

Violet grinned at her son and went over to him. She inspected the bag of saline solution and noted it was just about empty.

 

"Hi, baby," she whispered. "You can go home any minute now."

 

"Home?" Sherlock asked sleepily. "I can go home to Redbeard?" 

 

"Yes, baby,' she whispered. 'You can go home and snuggle up with Redbeard."

 

Sherlock smiled sleepily at his mum. "Good. I miss him." 

 

_I miss Mycroft…_

 

"Yeah. I know, baby." She smoothed a hand through his hair and kissed his forehead. "I'm going to call a nurse to get you off the IV and we'll take you home."

 

"Thank you mummy." Sherlock hummed softly. 

 

"You're very welcome, baby." She pressed the call button for a nurse and watched as Sherlock was taken care of so he could go home.

 

Sherlock smiled at the nurse cooing over him, soaking up the attention. Violet watched Sherlock, a soft smile on her face. He looked so happy being fussed over by the nurse. She knew he wouldn't like the babying at home, so she just stood back and watched the smile grow wider and his features soften from the attention. Sherlock was akin to a small kitten. He loved attention. His mum called him a little heartthrob in the making. He just liked being the centre of attention.

 

A wheelchair was pushed into the room for Sherlock to use on his way out. The nurses left for a moment so Sherlock could get dressed.

 

"Do you need any help, baby?" Violet asked. Sherlock shook his head,  suddenly acting independently,  as he so often did these days when he was around his mum. "Oh. OK. I'll give you some privacy then." She smiled sadly before leaving the room. Nate stayed behind a moment before leaving as well.

 

"Hey. You OK?" Nate asked Vi softly. 

 

Violet sniffled and wiped at her eyes.

 

"I'm fine. I'm fine, she said. "I just miss being able to fawn over Sherlock. He used to love my attention. And he was enjoying the attention from the nurses. You saw him. But when it comes to me it's like he's a different person. Why doesn't he want me to help him, Nate? Why does he reject me?"

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock blinked as he caught bits and pieces of what his parents were talking about outside the hospital room.

 

_Reject? Had he really been rejecting his mum?_

 

He swallowed thickly,  guilt flooding through him. He had to fix this.

 

"Mummy? " He called out softly.  "Can you come back please? "

 

Violet sniffled and wiped at her eyes.

 

"Of course," she called back. "I'll be right in, baby."

 

Violet made sure she looked presentable before going back in to Sherlock's room.

 

"Yes, baby? You ready to go?"

 

Sherlock shook his head and nodded towards his shirt. "Help me put my shirt on properly? "

 

Violet smiled softly at him. "Sure thing, baby." She went over to him and helped him pull his shirt on and buttoned it for him.

 

"Thank you...and mummy? I love you."

 

Violet smiled warmly at him. "I love you too, Sherlock."

 

Sherlock smiled. He didn't feel so guilty now. As long as his mum knew that he loved her he was happy. "Let's go home, yeh? "

 

"Yeh. Let's go home." She went behind the wheel chair and pushed Sherlock out of the room and toward the lift. She smiled happily at Nate as he followed beside her.

 

"You seem happy." Nate whispered. 

 

"He asked for my help," she mouthed.

 

"Can't wait to be home." Sherlock yawned sleepily. "I just want to sleep for a thousand years."

 

"You just rest all you want," Violet cooed. " I'll take good care of you, baby. Being sick is no fun."

 

Sherlock hummed and grinned at his mum. "Thank you mummy." He said appreciatively.

 

"You're very welcome, baby. What are mummies for?"

 

"Cuddles?" Sherlock said, glancing up at his mum through his long,  shaggy hair. 

 

"Of course, baby," Violet said softly. "You can cuddle with me on the ride home."

 

"OK mummy."

 

They made their way back to the car and Violet helped Sherlock into the back seat. She sat next to him and pulled him onto her lap, nuzzling his hair.

 

"What about the other car?" Nate asked.

 

"I took a cab," she murmured. "Just take us home, dear."

 

Sherlock made a soft sound like a   kitten. Normally he would have protested against the fuss. He was a big boy and it was embarrassing to be fussed over by his mum. He allowed it now though,  because his mum clearly needed it, and it felt nice because he was so poorly. Violet hummed softly to him and pet his hair. She really wished he would get it cut, but she wouldn't want to upset him again.

 

"G'night, baby," she whispered. She pressed a soft kiss to his temple. "Sweet dreams."

 

* * *

 

 

"John..." Sherlock snuffled in his sleep,  the young blogger lurking at the back of his mind. He wondered if the boy actually cared for him or if he was just an idiot who liked to pester Sherlock with constant messages. Then again he was an idiot. He'd been drunk when Sherlock had needed someone to talk to. "Idiot." He mumbled before falling deeper into sleep.

 

Violet cooked a curious eyebrow. Who was John? She gasped softly. Had Sherlock made a friend?

 

Sherlock slept soundly for the whole of the journey,  until he was jostled awake by his mum.

 

"Sorry, love. Sorry," she whispered. "Didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to carry you inside."

 

Sherlock groaned softly. "It's OK. I want to see Redbeard before I fall asleep."

 

"OK. Here he is."

 

The pup greeted them at the door, yipping excitedly.

 

Sherlock waved at the puppy and grinned sleepily. "Hey boy. Missed me?"

 

Redbeard whined and pawed at Violet's leg.

 

"I think he did, baby," she said softly. "Nate, be a dear and let Mrs Turner know she can go home now. And maybe give her some notes for her time."

 

"Of course. You just look after our boy."  Nate nodded and placed a kiss on Sherlock's head. 

 

Violet carried Sherlock up to his bed.

 

"I put some clean sheets on your bed," she said softly. "I'll wash the others after I've put you to bed."

 

"K. Sorry about being sick." 

 

"It's fine, baby," she said softly. "You're going to get better now though."

 

"I feel a lot better already."

 

"That's great, baby," Violet murmured. "You should get some more rest though. And maybe take your first antibiotic pill before you fall asleep."

 

"I want to check my blog too."

 

"OK. Try not to stay on too long though. You need your rest." She tucked him into bed and unplugged his phone from the charger. "I'll be right back with your prescription and a glass of water." She kissed his forehead before dashing out.

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock thumbed his phone gently, turning it on, and logging into his tumblr account. He had 17 new messages. 

 

They were all from John.

 

*Hey! Come bck! Whre u go?*

 

*Sher? U k?*

 

*My bdy saiz hi*

 

*He laikes Dr Who too*

 

*Doctor. My bd. He jus yelled a me cuz I did it rong*

 

*Hey. Im goin 2 bed. Plz mssge me in th morn so I know yous ok*

 

*Oh god. I'm reading your replies with a sober mind. I'm so sorry. Are you OK?*

 

*I'm sorry! I was drunk. Please tell me you're OK!*

 

*It's been 20 minutes. Where are you? Please tell me you're OK.*

 

*It's been an hour. Please post or reblog something so I know you're alive.*

 

*OK. Really getting worried now.*

 

*It's been 2 hours. Sherlock, please tell me you haven't killed yourself.*

 

*Sherlock!*

 

*Oh god...*

 

*Please no*

 

*God no*

 

*Sherlock... Please tell me you haven't killed yourself. Please tell me you're OK. Please. I... I need to know you're OK. Please. Please don't be dead.*

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock blinked as he read the messages. Why was John worried that he had killed himself? He wasn't so depressed with the world that he would consider suicide. He wasn't that low yet.    
  
He typed out a quick albeit sleepy and incoherent reply. He was still sick and his vision and ability to type was affected.   
  
  
*Wy think gonna ikll meself? Sick is all. Sick n missin ma brofer*

 

There. That would do. Even if his spelling was utterly atrocious.  

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Broken Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter says it all. Sherlock's finally on the mend from his fever. John and Sherlock begin talking to each other more. And /someone/ has returned to the Holmes' family household.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing. Mentions of illness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling generous, so I'm updating another chapter today for you to enjoy.

John swallowed in dread when his email chime went off. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the app. He practically sobbed in relief when he saw the title: "the_real_sherlock_holmes" has asked you a question. He opened the email and laughed softly as he tried not to cry. He replied to the message immediately.

*Thank god. I was so worried. I'm sorry I wasn't available to talk last night. But if that ever happens again, don't let it stop you. My friends say I give out great advice when I'm drunk. Maybe I could pass my drunk wisdom onto you one day. I'm just really happy you're OK.*

Sherlock huffed and shook his head. 

*Dun talk to fkin drunks. You're an idiot. Needed someone. Needed yu*

*I'm here now. And I'm sober. Promise. Want to talk? Please? You said you're missing your brother. Where's he off to?*

Sherlock was about to reply but all of a suddenly his phone wasn't in his hands anymore. He looked up and saw his mum looking at him sternly. 

"You should be asleep," she said softly but sternly. "Your blog buddies or whatever they're called will be there when you wake up. Please sleep. You look like you're about to pass out anyway."

Sherlock nodded reluctantly. He was exhausted,  his eyes already sliding shut. "Night mummy."

"Night, baby," she whispered. She pressed a gentle kiss to Sherlock's temple and placed his phone on his bedside table. "Sweet dreams."

Sweet dreams indeed. Sherlock dreamed of finally making a friend. He wandered through his mind palace and settled in the room labelled 'John Watson. '

The room was small and empty. There wasn't much information on John Watson, just a tiny flickering light of hope that left him feeling warm and safe.

He liked this new room. He never wanted to leave it. In the room he felt happier than he'd done in a long while.

* * *

 

John stared at his laptop, gnawing on his lower lip. Sherlock hadn't replied to him yet. Well, the kid had mentioned he was sick. Maybe he'd fallen asleep? John typed him another message for him to see when he'd woken up.

*Just letting you know you can talk to me at any time, drunk or sober. Here's my email again in case you lost it.*

He sent the message and began typing a new post, but he was interrupted by his parents fighting again. It was all they ever did lately. He just wished they'd get a fucking divorce already. Harry was off to college and he was 16. They didn't have to stay together for the kids anymore. But his mom only stayed with his dad because of his military status. As long as she lived on a military base, she didn't have to pay for utilities and got free housing and cheaper prices on groceries.

John rolled his eyes and put his headphones on so he wouldn't have to listen to them shouting. He began listening to The Arctic Monkeys and resumed typing his post.

* * *

 

 

Sherlock's health was a constant roller coaster for the next seven days. His fever occasionally returned and he was reduced to a shivering bundle beneath his covers, Redbeard licking him all over to comfort him, and his parents taking it in turns to monitor him.   
  
His mum had banned him from all forms of technology, stating that he was too poorly to talk to anyone, which included Mycroft and any of his Internet buddies (John Watson).  
  
On the seventh day Sherlock woke up feeling a lot better. His nose no longer felt stuffy, his skin wasn't on fire anymore, and his stomach was demanding food. Redbeard was lapping at his nose, yapping happily.  
  
"Hello boy." He whispered. "How is my good boy?"  Redbeard yipped happily and licked his cheek. Sherlock laughed and hugged the little pup. "It's so good to see you."

Redbeard whined softly and wriggled in Sherlock's arms. Sherlock kissed Redbeard's  nose and released him from the hug. "Get mummy for me.  Go on boy. Get mummy. " Redbeard yipped and jumped off the bed. He ran on awkward legs and slid down the stairs to go find Mrs Holmes.

Sherlock heaved his weak body out of bed, standing on trembling legs. He padded over to his wardrobe and dressed himself in a doctor who t shirt and loose jogger bottoms.  

Violet came upstairs, Redbeard in her arms.

"Hello,"she said when she saw Sherlock up and dressed. "Feeling better this morning, I see."

"I'm feeling much better." Sherlock smiled at his mum. "I'm sorry if I gave you a scare."

"It's fine, love," she assured him. "Think you might be able to keep down some tea and toast?"

"Yeh. I think so. I'm starving. When was the last time I ate?"

"A few days ago," Violet said softly. "You couldn't keep anything down."

"Oh." Sherlock frowned. "Is that why my clothes are so baggy on me?"

"Probably, yes. You've lost a little weight. Probably a couple pounds is all."

"Can I have marmite on my toast please?" 

"Of course, baby. Come on. I'll help you downstairs. I don't want to risk you falling down them again."

He blinked in confusion. "Again?" 

"Yes. It was shortly after you'd come home. You were confused. Disoriented. You tried to walk downstairs but you slipped and fell. You've still got a cut on your forehead from hitting the edge of one of the steps."

Sherlock raised one of his hands to his forehead and hissed. He could feel a small but painful lump underneath his fingertips. "Ouch." 

"Yeah. I'm sorry. Come on. I'll get you some aspirin and some food, OK?" She held out a hand, cradling Redbeard in her other arm.

 Sherlock grabbed hold of his mum's hand and squeezed it tight. She squeezed it back. She led him downstairs, one slow step at a time, and soon they were at the bottom. She smiled at him warmly as she took him into the kitchen.

"Toast with marmite, right?"

Sherlock nodded. "Don't use too much marmite. The key is to only use a little,  then butter it on top. You always put too much on."

"Do I? Well, I shall try not to do so this time." She put Redbeard down and he scrambled over to Sherlock, wanting to be near his boy.

"Awwww,"Violet cooed. "He's smitten with you already."

Sherlock looked up at his mum. "I love him mummy. He's the best present ever. I just wish I'd been able to thank Mycroft in person..."

"You'll be able to soon I hope." She turned away and smirked knowingly. Mycroft had called the other day to say he was coming home for the weekend. Sherlock would be so surprised and ecstatic to see him.

Sherlock grinned and hugged his puppy close. His stomach growled and Redbeard looked at him strangely. "It's OK boy. It's just my belly wanting food." Redbeard blinked at him and sniffed at his nose. "Can Redbeard have some meat or something?" Sherlock asked. 

"He's got some puppy chow in a bowl down here." Violet pointed to the bowl with her foot.

"Yeh, I know,  but I think he deserves a special doggy treat for being such a good puppy."

"Ah. Well, in that case, there's some leftover chicken in the fridge. He could have some pieces of that."

Sherlock nodded. He padded over to the fridge and pulled out some left over chicken. Redbeard barked sharply and began dancing around him in excitement. 

Violet hummed and smiled at the pup. The toast popped and she put it on a plate.

"Did you want to put the marmite on yourself?" she asked Sherlock. "I don't want to put too much on again."

Sherlock nodded and ran over to the toast. "I love you mummy but you and marmite aren't a good mix." 

"Yeh. I prefer honey over marmite. Sorry, love."

"You're weird. I'm the only normal one in this family." 

Sherlock froze entirely when he heard a familiar voice from the doorway.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Big Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about time we started updating this story! So sorry about the delay between updates. I'll try and upload a few chapters today. Please note that these chapters are unedited and may have mistakes within them. If you see any, please point the out to us! I usually rely on Tearstainedashes to pick out any errors, but we're both pretty busy right now and I felt like we needed an update so...here you go.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the updated chapters!
> 
> -Acemindpalace

"Fraid so," Mycroft said from the doorway. "We're all nuts compared to you."

Sherlock jumped at the sound of his brother's voice.  He almost dropped his plate of toast but he just about managed to steady himself. "Myc!" He exclaimed as he span around on his heel. "Myc!" He sprinted over to his brother and hugged him tight. 

Mycroft squeezed Sherlock back. He chuckled and rested his cheek on top of Sherlock's head.

"How're you feeling?" He murmured.

"Better. Especially now you're here."

"Good. That's good." He sighed happily and squeezed Sherlock a bit tighter.

"I'm sorry I didn't call. Mummy wouldn't let me."

"It's OK. You were sick. I understand. But an actual visit is better than a lousy phone call anyway."

Sherlock nodded into Mycroft's chest. "How long are you stopping for? "

"I'm here all weekend. Until Sunday afternoon. Then I have to go back."

"I don't want you to go back." 

"I know. But I'll come back to visit again. I'll come back every weekend if I have to, OK?"

Sherlock sniffled and pulled away slightly. "Promise?"

Mycroft smiled down at Sherlock. "Promise,"he said.

Sherlock could have jumped for joy. He grabbed hold of Mycroft's sleeve and tugged at it. "Come on. Let's go out to the garden. You've got to tell me all about university. Tell me the exciting bits."   
  
His mum coughed softly and pointed to Sherlock's fast cooling toast. "Take it with you. You need to rebuild your strength."   
  
Sherlock sighed softly. "OK mummy." 

"Yes. Please eat," Mycroft said.

"OK." Sherlock walked over to the toast. He finished spreading the marmite and butter on it a and hurried back over to Mycroft. "Now can we go to the garden?"

"Yeah. Let's go. Bring Redbeard too. He'll have a lot of fun running around out there."

Redbeard yipped and followed Sherlock and Mycroft outside. Mycroft led them to their favourite spot and they sat down in the grass. Redbeard trotted around, sniffing at everything within his noses reach.

"So..." Sherlock smirked to himself once they had both settled down. "Met any cute  boys?"

"Shhh!"Mycroft shushed him, a dark blush coating his cheeks. "Not so loud. Mummy might hear you."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, his lips twitching in amusement. He bent down to fiddle with a blade of grass. " I take that as a yes then. I'm not going to tell mummy, don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

"I can't do anything about this guy though," Mycroft whispered. "I'm tutoring him, and I don't know if he's even interested in me."

Sherlock snorted. His brother was officially an idiot. "So? It's as plain as day that you like him. You eat more when you're happy...and if your waist is anything to go by."

"Shut up. So I've gained a couple pounds? So what. I eat when I'm nervous. A habit I have to break if I'm to lose any weight this year. And yes, I like him, but I can't do anything about it because I have a girlfriend and so does he."

"Are you honestly going to keep up the whole girlfriend facade. You're an idiot Myc."

"I have to,"he mumbled. "The poor girl thinks she's in love with me."

"It's not right to drag people along just because you're too cowardly to come out."

'I'm no coward,' Mycroft growled. 'I'll go and break up with her right now!'

"Go on then." Sherlock threw his brother a shit eating grin. "I bet you don't though. She's your cover story." 

"I don't need one anymore. Uni is a lot more accepting of sexual orientation. It's a breath of fresh air really."

"Then what's stopping you from breaking up with her? "

"Our parents," Mycroft murmured. "I don't know how they'll react. And that's the scariest-- I just hate not knowing. I hate it."

Sherlock bit his lip. "I know how you feel. Mummy and father will be horribly disappointed."

'Disappointed?' Mycroft frowned. 'Are they really that bad?'

"They want grandchildren. As far as I'm aware two men aren't able to produce a child. Science hasn't come that far." 

"There's always surrogates and adoption," Mycroft pointed out.

Sherlock snorted. "It's not the same. Mummy won't see it in the same light. She has this perfect image of us with a wife and kids." 

"And how do you know that?"

"Because I've heard her, OK? She talks about us marrying beautiful women and having kids. I don't want kids. I don't even know what team I play for." 

Mycroft groaned and plopped down in the grass, closing his eyes.

"I don't want to get married and have kids either. I can't keep up this facade much longer."

"What facade, Mikey?" A young feminine voice said from above him.

Sherlock blinked and looked up at the young woman.  He smiled knowingly and put on an innocent and cute expression.   
  
"Hello. You must be my brother's girlfriend, hmm?"

Mycroft's eyes popped open.

"Yes," the girl said. "I'm Hayley. You must be Sherlock?"

Sherlock grinned at her sweetly. "Yep. That's me."

"It's nice to finally meet you." She smiled down at Mycroft. "Are you gonna continue staring up my skirt or are you gonna kiss me hello?"

Sherlock choked out a laugh. "I don't think he's...never mind." 

Mycroft blushed deep red and sat up. He scrambled to his fast and cleared his throat.

"Um... It's good to see you, Hayley,"he said awkwardly.

"Mycroft has something important to tell you. Right Myc?" Sherlock grinned up at the pair cheekily.

"Shut up," Mycroft grit out.

'Mikey?' Hayley said. "What's going on?"

"He's gay for crying out loud! He doesn't play for your team!  He doesn't actually like you! " Sherlock snapped,  not able to take the tension a moment longer. 

"Sherlock!"

'Mikey?!'

Redbeard began barking and running around the three of them.

"Shut up!" Mycroft screamed. "Everyone shut up!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Hayley screeched. "Are you gay?!"

"Yes!" Mycroft cried. "Yes! I'm gay! I like sucking cock and kissing boys! So do you!"

"You son of a bitch," she said, sobbing angry tears. "No wonder we haven't had sex yet."

"So I guess it's a good thing you've been sleeping with your ex behind my back then, right?" Mycroft countered. Hayley gasped and stepped back in shock. "Yeah. I know all about that."

"I think on that note you should leave. " Sherlock sneered.  

Hayley ran away, sobbing. Mycroft plopped down on the ground and groaned loudly. Redbeard went over to him and sniffed him to be sure he was OK. Mycroft reached out and pet the pup, scratching him behind his ears.

"Well," he said after a couple of minutes. "That could have gone better."

"Um," Sherlock bit his lip. "Mycroft... you don't think mummy heard that, do you?" 

"No." He shook his head. "We're too far away from the house. I'm good."

"Oh. Right. OK. I don't want to be responsible for your coming out announcement." 

"I would have been the one responsible. I was the one who shouted that I was gay at the top of my lungs."

Sherlock glanced away from Mycroft and tore into his slightly cold toast. "I'm still not sure about what team I play for. I've-" crunch. "Considered asexuality." Swallow. "What do you think? "

"It's a possibility," Mycroft mused. "But you're still a bit young to be putting labels on yourself. Maybe you'll end up being demisexual when you get a bit older."

Sherlock shrugged and continued to tear at his food greedily, hungry from days of not being able to eat anything. "Maybe.  Or maybe I'll be one of those people who sleeps with everything that moves.  Who knows."

"Yeh. There's still time to find out. Your sexual experimentation years will soon be upon you. Just be safe, OK? Always use protection. I'd hate for you to get an STI or STD or whatever it's called these days. Or get a girl pregnant. Let's not do that either.'

Sherlock pulled a face of disgust. "I'm too young to be a father. I'd be a shit dad anyway. I'd end up throttling the thing." 

"No you wouldn't," Mycroft said softly. "You'd be surprised. You'd probably be a good dad."

"You don't think I'd make a shit dad?" Sherlock asked.    
  
Redbeard yapped softly and climbed onto Sherlock's lap,  waggling his mini tail. 

"No. You'd be a good dad. Puppies are a lot like kids. And Redbeard is pretty taken with you." The pup licked the crumbs from Sherlock's lips, making the boy giggle.

Sherlock smiled down at the pup. "But puppies don't smell.  Babies do."

"Dogs can smell too. Their breath can get pretty bad if you don't look after their teeth and you have to give them baths so their fur doesn't smell."

Redbeard whined softly.  
  
"Aww boy. Has  Myc upset you?" 

"I didn't mean it like that, boy," Mycroft said softly. "I know Sherlock will take great care of you so you won't smell like other dogs."

"Of course I'll look after him.  I love him Myc. He's the best present ever."

"Good. I'm so glad you like him."

Sherlock shuffled over to his brother and hugged him. "I hope we always stay this close. I've been worried that you'll want nothing to do with me now you're at university." 

Mycroft hugged Sherlock back. "Nah. That isn't going to happen. You're my best friend, Lock. And you're also my brother. I'll always be here for you.'

"I've seen enough TV to know that people drift from each other. Lives change and people do to."

"That might be true, but I won't let that happen to us. I promise."

"Promise?" Sherlock smiled against his brother. 

"Promise," Mycroft whispered. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of Sherlock's head. "I love you, Sherlock."


	9. Coming Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Very brief homophobic language used.

Sherlock curled up against his brother and hummed,  his eyes fluttering shut. He was still weak and exhausted from being ill.

"Want to go back inside and nap?" Myc asked softly. "We can watch a movie in bed until you fall asleep."

Sherlock nodded into his brother's chest. "Yeh. Sure. What movie do you wanna watch?"

"Whatever you want to watch. I might catch some kip too. I'm exhausted from the long drive home."

Sherlock grunted. "Let's just sleep. We can kip on your old bed.  There’s more room than mine cus yours is a double. So unfair."

"I'm sure Mummy would get you a double bed if you asked. Or you could move into my room. It's bigger, and I won't be using it much during the school year anyway."

Sherlock smirked to himself. "A double bed would be great for when I finally hit puberty." 

"Hush now," Mycroft shushed him. "I don't want to think about that right now. Let's just nap, OK?"

"OK." Sherlock hummed sleepily. "Tell mummy I ate all my toast. She'll worry if she knows I've left some."

"Sure thing. Come on. Get up."

"Fine. I'll carry you." Mycroft stood and hauled Sherlock into his arms. "Come along, Redbeard." Redbeard yapped happily and ran behind Mycroft. 

Mycroft carried Sherlock inside and past their mum. They snuck upstairs and went into Mycroft's room. He placed Sherlock on the bed and took off his baggy hoodie so he wouldn't get too warm. He then removed his shoes and socks and his own jacket before crawling into bed beside him.

"Night, Lock," he whispered. "Feel better, yeh?"

"Yeh," Sherlock whispered softly. "I want to be well enough to blog. Gotta speak t' John."

"John?" Mycroft smiled softly. "Who's John?"

"An idiot." 

"Is he now? Is he an Internet buddy of yours?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes."

Mycroft hummed and settled down in bed. "Is he a fun Internet buddy? Does he treat you well?"

"I don't really know him. He worries about me though. He's obsessed with me."

"Obsessed? Is he dangerous?"

Sherlock groaned, his eyes rolling even beneath his closed lids. "You're starting to sound like mummy. Not everyone on the internet is a serial killer."

"That wasn't what I asked. You said he's obsessed with you. What gives you that impression? When did it start?"

"He asks  me questions about if I'm OK all the time. I guarantee he's having a freak out right now because I haven't replied to him since mummy took my phone and laptop from me.”

"Oh. Well, I'll be sure to let you message him so he doesn't panic more than necessary."

Sherlock cracked open a sleepy eye. "Can I borrow your phone to message him?"

"Yeah. I suppose." He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and gave it to Sherlock.

"Thanks." Sherlock smiled at his brother.  He quickly navigated his way to Tumblr and logged in. There were a ton of messages waiting for him, each one more desperate than the last.

The most recent one read:

*You can't just say that nothing matters and then dissappear! Please message me and let me know you're OK! I can't lose another friend to suicide. Please.*

Sherlock swallowed guiltily and replied.   
  
*Look. I often say nothing matters. I've said it before and I've been alright. Why believe those words again? I just got really poorly. Mum took my phone and laptop from me.*

The reply was nearly instantaneous.

*Thank god! Well, not really God, but you know what I mean. Sorry about all the messages. You can delete them all if you want.*

Sherlock smiled to himself. He felt a little pool of warmth in his gut.  He cared. John cared about him. That felt fantastic. 

"Everything OK?" Mycroft asked.

Another message popped up.

*And sorry if it seems like I'm a bit intense about your well-being. I guess I care too much about a lot of things. But you seem pretty cool for being a fandom blogger and all ;)*

"Everything's great." Sherlock's smile grew into a grin. The pool of warmth in his stomach intensified and he sighed like a lovestruck school girl in a really bad chick flick.  
  
He typed out a reply,  making sure he kept it short. His brother was starting to seem suspicious.   
  
* It's  OK. Intense is fine. It's all fine. You seem very nice too,  considering the fact you're a hipster. *

John snickered and shook his head.

*Well, at least we can look past our differences unlike the rest of tumblr. And I'm glad you're OK. Are you just sick? Is that what poorly means? Sorry. Ignorant American.*

*Yeh. Just sick. It's OK. I forgive you for your ignorance. Love a slightly less ignorant Brit.*

John raised an eyebrow at the "L" word but didn't mention it in his reply.

*OK. Well, I hope you feel better soon. You should probably rest though. Isn't it like 6 p.m. or something in the UK?*

*Yeh. I'm really sleepy. I'm going to sleep with my brother now.* 

Sherlock paused a moment, realising how that could be interpreted. He quickly typed another message to the American boy.

 *God. Not LIKE THAT. I'm just taking a nap on his bed with him.*

*LOL. That's fine. I knew what you meant. I still sleep with my big bro in his bed sometimes. Just "not like that" as you put it.*

*Go rest. I'll be awake when you are. I rarely sleep these days.*

Sherlock bit his lip to hold back his laughter. He felt warm all over and a tad flushed but he couldn't pinpoint why. 

"You alright, Lock?" Mycroft asked. "You've gone all pink."

"I, uh-" Sherlock flushed a darker red, as he became self concious. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just feel hot." 

"You're blushing." Mycroft smiled brightly. "Is John making you blush?"

"He is!" Mycroft laughed and ruffled Sherlock's hair. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Lock."

"Shut up!" Sherlock spat. "I barely know him. He's not making me blush!" 

"I think he is," Mycroft sing-songed.

Sherlock was furious.  He threw his brother's phone across the room.  It hit the wall with a loud crack. "Fuck you, OK? How dare you tease me about this. You don't know what you're talking about!" 

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock!" Mycroft cried. "That was a bloody £200 phone! What the fuck? I was just having a little fun! You tease me about my crushes all the time and I take it in good stride!"

"He isn't a crush! He's the kindest person I've ever come across. He likes me for me. He cares. I'm finally making a friend and you make stupid jibes like that?"

"Calm down! I'm sorry! Jesus Christ! Calm down!"

"What's going on in here?!" Violet demanded when she rushed into the room.

"Nothing!" Sherlock screamed, thumping his brother in the chest out of anger.  He leapt off the bed and shoved past his mum. "I hate him! He ruins everything! "

"Sherlock!" Violet called after him. She turned to glance at Mycroft before going after Sherlock. "Sweetheart, baby, what's wrong? What did he do, baby?" Violet asked softly.

"He teased me about something really important to me.  He had no right! "

"Oh no." Violet frowned, scowling slightly. "Did he tease you about your pirates again?"

"No." Sherlock flushed a dark pink. "He says I have a crush.  Which isn't true!"

"A crush?" Violet smiled warmly at Sherlock. "A crush is nothing to be ashamed of, sweetie. Crushes are perfectly normal. Perhaps Myc was just making a fuss because this is your first crush?"

"He isn't a crush." Sherlock grit out. "He isn't even a friend. I think he might want to be friends though. Why is Mycroft being a complete dick about this?" 

"I don't know, baby. Why don't you just get some rest, OK? And when you eat some dinner I'll let you have your phone and laptop back so you can chat with your friend. OK?"

"Okay. " Sherlock nodded. "I don't want to see Mycroft again though. He's a poof."  

Violet blinked and froze. 'I'm sorry... What did you say?'

"He's a poof, a dandelion, a faggot, he likes to take it up the arse. You know the sort. I don't feel comfortable around him." 

Violet scowled and slapped Sherlock's cheek. "Don't you /dare/ talk about your brother that way," she spat. "I don't care what his sexual preferences are. He's still my son and he's still your brother. I don't ever want to hear you use that kind of language again, do you hear me?"

Sherlock glared sharply at his mum,  his cheek red and throbbing painfully.  "Fine,  not a problem. I can easily remove myself from this house."  His eyes drifted to his mum's stomach. "I hope you'll be happier with your next child." 

Violet sucked in a sharp breath of air through her nose.

"Don't you dare," she growled. "Don't you bloody dare. Don't you leave and don't you think that my trying for another baby is a way to replace you. I would never do that. I am not that kind of mother. I love you, Sherlock. I love you with every fibre of my being. I am not trying to replace you and I will not let you leave this house. Now get into bed right now or I will ground you for a month."

"No!" Sherlock spat,  crossing his arms and scowling at his mother. "Make me!" 

"Do not test me, young man! Get into bed!"

"No!" Sherlock screamed.  He ran past his dad and stormed out of the house, quickly disappearing out of sight.

 

 


	10. Close Encounter

Violet chased after Sherlock, through their street and the sparse woods that separated their houses from the next street.

"Get back here!" she screeched. "Sherlock! Stop! Right now! Or I'll put Redbeard up for adoption!"

The threat didn't stick with Sherlock.  He knew his mum wouldn't get rid of the pup. Redbeard would be a great family pet for her next child to love.   
  
Instead Sherlock sped on ahead. He was smarter than the last time he'd run away. He sought out shelter.  He found what looked like an abandoned shelter. Little did Sherlock know that by walking through those doors he was stepping onto a very dark path.

"Sherlock!" Violet screamed. "Don't go in there! It isn't safe!"

Sherlock didn't heed his mum's warning. He wandered inside and immediately found himself in deep shit. A boy, no older than himself,  was sticking a knife to his throat, the cold blade scraping against his skin.

"Whatchu doin 'ere, mate?" The boy demanded. "You 'ere to take me 'ome?"

Sherlock swallowed thickly. "No. I'm hiding from my mum. Just let me hide here,  please? "

"Why ya wanna 'ide?"

"Because she's basically replacing me with another baby. I said some pretty shitty stuff about my brother and she's pissed at me. Please can you remove your knife? "

"No." The kid pressed it harder against Sherlock's throat until it nicked his skin. "I don't wantcha 'ere. Go 'ome t' yas mummy."

Sherlock whimpered,  tears pricking his eyes. "Please. I'll do anything. Just don't make me go back."

"Anythin?"

Sherlock nodded slowly. "Anything. "

The kid grinned maliciously, but before he could do anything the door to the shack was wrenched open and the barrel of a shotgun was thrust in his face.

"Let go of my son," Mr Holmes growled. "Now."

"Dad!" Sherlock screamed as the boy pressed the knife closer to his neck,  a deadly threat in his eyes.

Nate cooked the gun and pressed the barrel right onto the boy's crotch.

"I told you to let him go," he growled. "Drop the knife or I blow off your fucking prick."

The boy let go of Sherlock in an instant, the poor kid dropping the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"Thank you," Nate said with a slight tilt of his head. 'Now leave.'

The boy shook his head. "I 'ive 'ere. I ain't leavin'"  


"Then how about you just run off for a while so I can get my son home safe?" Nate pointed the gun at the boy's crotch again. "This is non-negotiable."

The boy stumbled back in shock slightly and nodded. "K." He nodded again after a minute, moving his way past the man with the gun cautiously.

Nate followed him with the barrel of the gun until the boy disappeared. As soon as he was gone, he turned the gun's safety back on and knelt down by Sherlock to help him up.

"Hey. Hey," he said softly. "You OK? That kid didn't hurt you, did he?"

Sherlock was in shock so he shook his head and closed his eyes,  trying to will the world away.

Violet came in when the boy was gone down the street and out of sight. She knelt down by Sherlock and pulled him into her arms.

"Baby?" she said softly. 'Are you OK?'

Sherlock pushed his mum away. "I'm fine. Don't call me baby. I'm not a baby."

"Sorry," she said softly. "You really scared me, love. Come on. Let's go home."

Sherlock shook his head and buried his face in his knees. "I don't want to go home."

"Why not?" Nate asked.

"Because mummy hit me,  you're having another baby,  and I don't want to be a big brother. You can forget that. I just hate home right now."

"What do you mean, Sherlock?" Nate asked, his face falling in concern. "You don't want a baby sister or brother? You don't want to be at home with Redbeard and Mycroft?"

"Mycroft was being such a fucking dick to me!" Sherlock snapped,  not caring about his vulgar language. "And besides,  mummy said she's putting Redbeard up for adoption. I don't want a sister or brother. I hate change. Babies change everything."

"I merely threatened to put him up for adoption!" Violet said in defense.

"Vi, wait outside would you?" Nate asked.

"But--"

"Please."

Violet sighed and trudged out of the abandoned shack. Nate sat next to Sherlock on the ground and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry everything seems to be falling to shit right now," he said softly. "I realise home isn't where you want to be, but it's where you have to be. Well, perhaps not. You and I can go out on the boat for a bit if you want. Just you and me and no one else. Does that sound OK? We can get away for a while, a nice little holiday."

Sherlock considered it for a moment before nodding slowly. "I'd like that,  but I can't hide out on your boat forever, and you'll have to go to work. I don't want to go back home. I just hate it. Mummy doesn't let me go on the Internet. The Internet is how I escape. I wish she understood that. Can I...can I stay with uncle Rudy for a bit? Would he mind? "

"I'll talk to him. I'll take some time off work and we can spend the weekend on the boat. I'll chat with Uncle Rudy when we come home. And I'll be sure you have your phone and laptop back when we do, OK?"

"OK." Sherlock whispered. "I think that's acceptable. What about Redbeard? Is mummy really going to send him away?"

"No. Your mother would never do that to you. I'll ask Uncle Rudy about you bringing a dog too. So long as he isn't allergic, he should allow him to come with you."

"I like uncle Rudy. He's cool." Sherlock sniffled softly.

"Yeah. He's pretty cool," Nate agreed. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up and then we can stay on the boat for the rest of the weekend."

"Ok." Sherlock whispered. He allowed his dad to help him up to his feet. His legs shook beneath him. His run in with the boy and his knife had left him shaken up.

"You gonna be OK to walk?" Nate asked, not wanting to upset Sherlock further. "I can carry you if you need me to."

"I'm not a baby. I don't need coddling. I'm perfectly capable of walking myself."

"Sorry, Sherlock," Nate said softly. "I just wanted to be sure you were OK. I wasn't trying to coddle you."

"I'm fine,  OK?" Sherlock snapped. "Let's just go home."

"Sorry," Nate said again. He picked up the shotgun and followed Sherlock out of the shack. He shook his head at Violet, silently telling her not to interfere or attempt to speak to Sherlock. Sherlock stormed past his parents and stomped all the way back to the house.


	11. Family Wars

Nate unloaded the shotgun and put it away in the safe under the bed. He then called into work and said he would be taking the weekend off as a family crisis had arisen. No one asked any questions. He packed some clothes in a dufflebag and grabbed his keys for the jeep and the boat. He found Violet sulking at the kitchen table when he emerged from their bedroom.

"Hey," he said softly. £Don't beat yourself up about this. He's just having a bad day and he needs some time away to organise his thoughts. We're going to spend the rest of the weekend on the boat and maybe talk to Uncle Rudy and see if Sherlock and Redbeard can stay with him for a little while. OK?”

"Where did we go wrong? Our baby is becoming... I don't know. It's like he's starting to put up walls.  He's blocking us out. I...I don't understand." 

"He's going through puberty and all those hormones are probably part of the reason he's so moody and closed off," Nate told her. "And, like you said, I haven't been spending as much time with him as I probably should, so maybe this weekend will be good for him. Maybe he won't want to stay with Uncle Rudy when we come home."

"What about what he said,  about having another sibling... He already hates us for it. I don't want to upset him by having another baby." She whispered,  tears pricking at her eyes. 

"He could feel differently once he sees his baby sibling." Nate knelt down by her side and pulled her into a gentle hug. "He's going to be fine. He's just having one of those strops teenagers always get into at some point or another. Hopefully he'll feel better after this weekend away. But don't stop wanting to have a baby because of Sherlock. Lots of older siblings don't want a younger sibling until they see them. Things will be OK, Vi. I promise."

"I just want a baby. I thought that Sherlock would love being a big brother. I know our boy. He's not going to change his mind easily about this. Nate...you recall that Sherlock has a way of deducing things about people, yes?"

"Yes. Why? Did he deduce that we're trying for a baby? You didn't tell him that and he just threw a tantrum?"

"He deduced that we're having a baby. Does that mean..." 

"Mean what? That he's having sex?"

"No...no. Does it mean he can tell if we've conceived?"

"Oh. I don't know. Have we?" His face brightened and a smile graced his features. " Why don't you check whilst Sherlock and I are on our trip?"

"I'm worried that I'll lose Sherlock if I'm pregnant. What if this sends him off the rails? "

"I'm sure he'll come round to the idea eventually. He just needs to blow off some steam. We'll be fine. I know we will be."

"You think so? " She asked softly. "I'm not convinced. Once Sherlock is in a certain mindset...well...you know how he is."

"Yes, but he can just as easily change his mind. You know how he is. He'll be fine. He just needs time to organise his thoughts. I'm gonna go check on him now. We'll be leaving soon I imagine."

"OK." She sniffled. "You'll look after our boy,  won't you?"

"Of course I will, love. I promise." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before gently kissing her on the lips. "Love you, Vi."

"I love you too Nate."   
  
                   ////  
  
Meanwhile Mycroft and Sherlock were having a heated discussion with each other.   
  
"I'm sorry,  OK? I didn't mean to tell mummy about your sexuality! And I didn't mean anything by those names...I was just so pissed off at you."

"But why would you tell Mummy?" Mycroft demanded. "I was going to tell her and Dad when I was ready! On *my* terms! What if she kicks me out of the house?"

"She won't! You know why? She fucking hit me in your defence. Congratulations. Mummy loves you more than me!"

"That's a lie! Mummy has never hit anyone in her life!"

Sherlock screamed and slammed his fist into Mycroft's jaw. "She did!  She hit me! Ask her!"

Mycroft cried out in pain and fell back onto the floor. That was when Mr Holmes intervened.

"Sherlock! What on earth is going on?!"

"Nothing!" Sherlock screamed. "Why is everyone against me all of a sudden? What is it? Gang up on Sherlock day?”

"Sherlock, please relax," Nate said calmly."We're just trying to look out for you. Please calm down. Come on. Let's go to the boat and have some alone time together. Please?"

"No! I'm not leaving till Mycroft apologises to me. He called me a liar. "

'Myc, apologise to your brother,' Nate said sternly.

Mycroft groaned and sat up, rubbing his jaw.

"Sorry about calling you a liar, Lock. I should know you'd never lie to me. I just couldn't believe Mummy would ever hit you. You're her favourite."

"I did call her precious son a faggot." Sherlock grumbled. "So I deserved it. I still hate her though. She's pregnant." 

 "We don't know that for sure, Sherlock," Nate said. "And Mycroft is gay?"

"Yes," the boy in question mumbled. He looked down at his shoes in shame.

"Myc, there's nothing wrong with being gay," Nate told him. 'As a matter of fact, I myself am bisexual. I wanted to tell the two of you at a better time, but I suppose there's no time like the present."

Sherlock looked at his dad in shock. That was one deduction he'd missed. "You're...You're bisexual?" 

"Yes." Nate turned to look at Sherlock. 'Problem?'

"No." Sherlock huffed. "Why would I have a problem?"

"Because you obviously have a problem with Mycroft being gay. Are you afraid he's going to molest you? Are you afraid *I* am going to molest you?"

"What?" Sherlock's eyes widened. "What the fuck?! You're sick." 

"I'm merely stating the fear of every homophobic. And I'm letting you know hour brother and I certainly are *not* going to do any such thing. So calm down and let's go."

"No." Sherlock shook his head. "Go back to work. That's what you care about, right? And I'm homophobic now am I? I can't believe you would say such a thing. Get out of here. Go back to your precious paperwork. Go to mummy and celebrate your new baby. Just go!" 

"Do you know nothing of what I've done and sacrificed in order to keep a roof over our heads?" Nate growled. "How much family time I have lost to earn more pay? How many precious moments I've missed because of my bloody job? No! You don't! All you know is a neglectful father who is never there because he's working too damn much! Well you can just sit down and shut up! Because I work my arse off so you can have an education, a bed, clothes, food, and a home! And now I have to provide for a dog and another baby! Do you know how much dogs and babies cost? Hundreds of thousands of pounds! So you can take your conceited, spoiled, bratty little arse and go to your room and throw a tantrum all you like because you are not leaving this house!"

Sherlock's lower lip trembled and his eyes filled with tears. He refused to let them fall. Instead he shook his head and moved to sit beside his brother on the bed. "I'm not going anywhere. What are you going to do? Drag me out of here?"

"No. You don't have to go to your room, but you are not to leave this house until further notice. Understood?"

"Fine, " Sherlock choked out. "Just go. I'm sure you need to work, because babies are fucking expensive, right? "

"Yes," Nate grumbled. "They are. But they're worth the heavy price."

" And I'm not? "  Sherlock asked. "Fuck you." 

"I didn't say that!" Nate shouted. "I did not say that! You have been worth everything we've spent to provide for you! Your mother and I love you very much. We always have and we always will. We are not trying to replace you with a new baby. We just want to have another child before we are too old to do so. And maybe having a baby sister would be good for you and Mycroft. Daughters are said to turn their fathers and brothers into mush. They're little rays of sunshine. And this family could use some sunshine right now."

"I've always hated sunshine." Sherlock snarled. "Please just go."

Nate left the room without another word, slamming the door shut behind him.

 

 

 

 


	12. Skype Call

Sherlock flinched when the door slammed, his lower lip trembling. He turned to Mycroft,  hoping for comfort but his brother was just pissed off with him. 

Mycroft softened when he saw how utterly broken Sherlock looked. He thawed and held his arms open for Sherlock to fold himself into.

Sherlock crawled into his brother's arms. "I have this awful habit of fucking everything up. I just get so angry sometimes and I say things I don't really mean. I don't think you're a faggot. I was just peeved with you."

"I know, Sherlock," Mycroft murmured. "It's OK. I know you didn't mean it. It hurt at first because I never expected to hear those words come out of your mouth. But I know you better than that, so I know you didn't mean it. You say stuff in the heat of the moment you'll later regret when you cool off. I'm the same way."

"I don't want a baby brother or sister." Sherlock murmured. "Dad hardly spends any time with me as it is. Now he's going to be constantly occupied with the baby. "

"I thought he was going to take you out on the boat?" Mycroft said. £That it was going to be just the two of you on the open water."

"Yes, he was. Not any more though, because I'm an idiot. I've messed things up."

"He can still take you out on the boat another time. It could be fun."

"He'll be too busy working and cooing over the new baby. I just feel like they don't give a shit about me anymore."

"Yeah. The baby thing is new. How long has that been going on?"

"I don't know. I deduced that mummy is pregnant today."

Mycroft forcefully blew air out his nose. "I bet they started as soon as I left," he huffed. "Selfish bastards. Could barely wait until I got out of the house. And you had to suffer through all that. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I've been so ill I barely noticed they were trying. I've been really out of it."

"So I heard." Mycroft sighed and briefly hugged Sherlock tighter before letting go. "Still want to take that nap? You must be exhausted right now."

"Mmm." Sherlock hummed sleepily. "I'm exhausted. "

"Thought so. Come on. Take your dirty clothes off. You can sleep in one of my shirts." Mycroft got up and helped Sherlock undress. He then pulled a far too big t-shirt over his head and tucked him into bed. He changed into his own pyjamas and crawled into bed beside Sherlock.

"Night, Lock," he murmured.

"Night Myc." 

The brothers fell into a deep and somewhat peaceful sleep.

////

As time passed Sherlock witnessed his world falling apart before his very eyes, and there was nothing that he could do about it. He watched powerless as his family drifted from him, and on some occasions seemed to forget about his existence completely.

His brother's visits had stopped. The last time he'd seen Mycroft they had had an explosive argument. They hadn't spoken since. No matter how many times Sherlock texted or left voice messages, he never got a reply. It was like he was shouting at a brick wall. So much for staying close... so much for being brothers.

His mum and dad were too busy with baby stuff to pay Sherlock any attention. His mum was barely three months gone and they'd already replaced him. They were too caught up with their new child that they didn't notice when Sherlock came home covered in bruises. They didn't pick up on the fact he was being bullied, didn't help him when he burst into tears after being called 'Freak' for the thousandth time. They weren't there when the nightmares started, the taunting voices of his bullies echoing through his mind even at night.

At school he was noticed too much, for all the wrong reasons. At home it was like he didn't even register on his families radar anymore.

He tried everything to get their attention. Screaming at them didn't seem to work, nor did skipping dinner, or not turning his homework in on time. 

The only person he could turn to was John. Wonderful John who didn't care if he rambled about his shitty life, who sent him funny pictures and messages to make him smile. It was John that stopped him from popping a few pills into his mouth and ending it all. It was the American boy that allowed him to cry and scream whilst he sat on Skype as a lingering and warm presence.

Sherlock was quickly becoming dependent on John. He couldn't imagine life without him. He was the only thing that made him feel happy these days. He was, dare Sherlock say it, a friend. His only friend in the entire world, apart from Redbeard of course. The pup was also a comfort to Sherlock. He was the only thing Sherlock had left of his brother, so he simultaneously made him happy and sad.

Today Sherlock had done something completely stupid. He was in so much trouble. Had the police man followed him home? What if he hadn't run fast enough? He was going to go to jail for his crime, wasn't he? He'd wanted his family to notice him, of course he did, but not like this.

He hid beneath his covers, shaking fearfully. Redbeard was curled up beside him, licking his face to try and make him feel better. John was on skype looking on at Sherlock with big, worried eyes.

"I've...I've messed everything up." He whispered, tears dribbling down his cheeks. "Tell me how to fix this, John. Please... what do I do?"

"What happened, Sherlock?" John asked softly. The boy was more of a wreck than usual today. Maybe because Christmas was approaching? "Sherlock, please tell me."

"I...I stole." Sherlock whispered, voice shaking. "I think a police man followed me home. I can hear my dad speaking to someone. I'm really scared." 

"What did you take?"  John asked, not using the word "steal."

"I took a watch for my brother,  some expensive  perfume for my mother,  and a wallet for my father." 

"Christmas presents?" John guessed.

"Yes," Sherlock wiped at his eyes. "Shit. I can hear footsteps."

"Do you want me to stay online?"

Sherlock nodded. "Please don't go. Stay online." 

"OK. I'll stay right here."

There was a loud knock on Sherlock's door that John knew all too well. An angry father banging on the door with his fist, poised and ready to strike. "You'll be OK, Sherlock," he said just as Mr Holmes and a police officer came into Sherlock's bedroom.Sherlock clenched his eyes shut and buried himself deeper underneath his covers. 

"Sherlock," Mr Holmes said sternly. "This officer says you stole some rather pricey items from the shopping centre downtown. Is that true?"

"I didn't...I didn't steal anything!" Sherlock sobbed softly. "Go away!"

"Sherlock--"

"Young man," the officer said, "I know for a fact that you took a watch, a bottle of perfume, and a leather wallet. Now give them back."

"I can't. They're...I just need them. I don't want to give them back. They're presents."

"Presents?" Mr Holmes questioned. "Why did you steal them? I could have given you some money."

"You haven't exactly been around lately." Sherlock whispered.

"I know. I've been busy at work and preparing for the new baby. I'm sorry." He stood and faced the officer and got out his wallet. "How about I pay for all he took? How much do I owe the shop?"

"Five hundred and sixty pounds.  The watch was a limited edition,  worth five hundred. The perfume and the wallet cost around thirty pounds each I think. Do you have that kind of money? If not I'm afraid I'll have to take the boy to the station."

"No. It's fine. I've got this. I'll go to the store and I'll pay for everything."

Sherlock heard the police man grunt and leave.   
  
He slowly wriggled from his covers. "Why did you tell him we can afford it? Christmas is already tight."

"I got my Christmas bonus yesterday," Nate explained. "£1,000. It's fine, Sherlock. I've got this."

Sherlock shook his head and wiped his eyes. "But that was for all of the family. You can't just blow it because I stole those things." 

"You wanted those things for us for Christmas. I can't just let you not get us presents. It's fine, Sherlock. Really. I'll go pay for the things. Why don't you wrap them while I'm out?"

"Why aren't you angry? I thought you'd be angry with me. You're always yelling at me these days. Why not now?"

"We all make mistakes, Sherlock. Hopefully we'll all learn from this. We've clearly been neglecting you, and for that I am so sorry."

"Sir!" The officer yelled from downstairs.

"Coming!" Mr Holmes hollered back. "Sorry, Lock. We'll talk later, OK?"

"OK." Sherlock waited for his dad to leave before diving back underneath his covers. "John...are you still there?" 

"Yes. I'm here," John said. "That was really nice of your dad to do that."

"Yeh...so why do I feel so shitty?"

"Because he's using his bonus on you?" John asked. "I know he said he was fine with it, but that won't stop you from feeling guilty."

Sherlock swallowed thickly. "I'm always fucking things up." 

"Are you sure it's you and not your family?" John asked. "Your dad did say they'd been neglecting you."

"It's nothing, honestly." Sherlock looked away from John, avoiding eye contact. "I guess they're just too busy for me these days." 

"And your mom's pregnant, yeah?"

"Yes. They don't need me now they're having a baby."

"That's not true. They'll need you to help with the baby. Do they know what they're having yet? Or is it too early?"

"But..." Sherlock frowned. "I don't want to help out with the baby. And I don't care what gender that thing is." 

"But it's your sibling. Don't you care about that at all?"

"No. I couldn't care less about it." 

John frowned but didn't push the issue.

"Why don't you tell me about the Christmas special you're excited for?" he asked instead.

"You're a hipster. You don't want to hear about Doctor Who,  surely."

"Yeah, but it matters to you." John sat back in his chair and smiled at the lump in Sherlock's bed. "So tell me about it."

So Sherlock did. He talked and talked about his favourite TV show, his voice passionate and his usually dead eyes lighting up with excitement. 

John smiled triumphantly and sat back in his chair. He was starting to know how to get Sherlock to open up and unwind and relax. They'd been emailing for a few months and skyping for barely a couple of weeks, but John felt like he'd known Sherlock his whole life. He inserted a clever question here and there to keep Sherlock talking, and he soon emerged from his sheets and sat down in front of his laptop, still talking animatedly about the show.

Sherlock paused to lick his lips. His cheeks flushed a soft pink. "Am I starting to ramble? I'm sorry. I have a terrible habit of doing that."

"It's fine," John assured him. "I like listening to you talk. Especially about something you're passionate about. Your whole face lights up and your eyes sparkle. Yes, they really sparkle. That wasn't a line."

Sherlock couldn't help it. A small moan left his lips. "You think my eyes sparkle,  hmm? "

John flushed a dark crimson and nodded. "Yes," he croaked out.

Sherlock swallowed down thickly. Lately John made him feel...aroused. It was strange,  terrifying,  and wonderful all at the same time. "John...You're...I don't know. You just make me feel...you know? "

"Yeah?" John swallowed thickly and blushed a deeper red. "I... uh... I'm not sure that's legal, how I'm making you feel. Cuz you're still only 14 and I'm 16 and I just feel weird making you feel that way. I mean, it's not that I don't like it too, because I think you're cool and a great person and you're fun to talk to and you're really kinda adorable and I like listening to you talk and it's soothing to me after I've had a rough day and I know you like venting to me too and we're good for each other I think, you know?"

"I couldn't imagine life without you. I'm sure I would have done something really stupid by now if I didn't have you to turn to. John,  I don't care that you're older than me. I like how you make me feel. I've never wanted to have sex with someone... let alone this badly. It's so unfair! I'm so sexually frustrated."

John felt his heart lurch and his stomach drop. Sherlock wanted to have sex with him? No. He couldn't. He was under age. But maybe... No! He was just a kid.

"Um... Thank you?" He said lamely. "I... wow. I've never had anyone say they wanted to have sex with me before. Um... wow. I don't know what to say. I... I'd like to sleep with you too, Sherlock, but I don't want to rush into it. If we ever get a chance to meet, I'd want to do things right, you know?"

Sherlock's face fell with disappointment. "Do you not like me? I know I haven't really hit puberty yet.  My voice hasn't broken.  And I have all this puppy fat... "

"Did you not hear the part where I said I wanted to sleep with you too?" John asked.

"You won't sleep with me, because a) you view me as a child,  and b) you don't even live in the same country as me."

John chuckled and shook his head. "Well, you seem to have it all figured out, don't you? Have you heard of the miraculous discovery of Skype sex?" He raised an eyebrow at the boy and smirked.

"It's basically just masturbation in front of the camera while your partner watches," John explained. "Usually the partner is jacking off with the other person. It's like live-streaming porn, but for free."

Sherlock flushed a shocking shade of red. "What's stopping us from doing that right now?" 

"Now you're catching on!"John said, smirking.

Sherlock's mouth fell open. He felt a little panicked about the whole situation. "I...I've never..."

"What? Never jacked off?"

"No...I never really saw a need to."

'Well, it's not that hard. No pun intended.'

"I've never...never shown anyone my cock before."

"Neither have I. It'll be a first for both of us."

"You go first..." Sherlock chewed on his lower lip nervously. "I might need a bit of encouraging."

"OK. But I'm just letting you know, my prick isn't as spectacular as you're probably hoping it'll be." John pushed his chair back and stood up so only his crotch was in the frame of the camera. He took a deep breath to steady himself and started undoing his belt. He pulled it all the way off and dropped it onto his bed, the buckle clinking as it landed. He then unbuttoned his jeans--a dark purple today--and unzipped until Sherlock could see his boxers. He reached inside and pulled out his penis, pushing his boxers and jeans down enough so Sherlock could see.

Sherlock's jaw dropped  at the sight of John's cock. He had only seen two cocks in his life. One being his own and the other belonged to his brother. John's cock was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. "Wow." He swallowed thickly. "It's bigger than I imagined." 

"Is it?" John looked down at his cock and shrugged. "I guess it's OK. I mean, it's a little bigger than the American average, but not by much."

"It's gorgeous." Sherlock whispered. "Mine is shameful compared to yours."

"Well? Let's see yours then. Come on. Don't be shy. I promise not to laugh."

Sherlock took a deep breath to gear himself up for what he was about to do. He hardly liked to show skin to the world, let alone his cock. He undid his belt and his trousers dropped down to his hips. He slipped his hands into his purple pants and fished his cock out. 

John hummed appreciatively at the sight. "I like it," he said. "Not too bad for a kid of barely 15."

"Thanks." Sherlock whispered,  embarrassed,  the tips of his ears turning pink. "I'm sure it'll mature in the next few years."

"Yeah. You've still got some growing to do. This is gonna seem like a dumb question, but I'm gonna ask it anyway: do you even know how to jack off?"

"I...uh...not really. No."

"You poor, uneducated soul," John tsked. "I'll show you. You might want to put headphones or something in. And lock your door so no one will accidentally walk in on us with our cocks out."

"Good idea." Sherlock hopped off the bed and locked his door as quietly as he could,  not wanting to draw attention to himself. He grabbed his headphones and plugged them into his computer, placing the buds in his ears. "OK, I'm ready."

John returned to his computer after locking his own door. He plugged some headphones in as well and slid them on over his ears.

"OK," he said quietly, not wanting his mother to hear. "Just watch what I do for now, and then mimic it on yourself and find what you like.

"OK. Show me John, show me how to wank."

So he did. He started to stroke his cock until it was thick and full, soft moans escaping as he did so.

"See?" He said breathlessly after a few minutes. "It's easy. You try."

"Yes...I see." Sherlock breathed out, his pupils dilating with arousal.  He wrapped his hand around his cock and began to move it up and down slowly. 

"That's it," John said, his breathing getting more and more harsh as he became more aroused. "Don't squeeze too tight. And do a little twist around your head like this--" he gasped softly as he did it himself, "--to add some different types of pleasure."

Sherlock delicately moved his hand up to the head of his cock, twisting it gently with a moan. "Like this?"

"Yeah," John moaned. "Fuck. Just like that."

"Oh fuck. It feels so good. Ugh- shit-fuck!"  The problem was Sherlock had never wanked before. He was so sensitive that it didn't take him long to find an orgasm. He cried out. The sensation that was now washing over him now was like nothing he had ever felt before. He wasn't quite sure he liked the stickiness of his cum but he reveled in the tremors running through his body. 

"Oh fuck!" John cried. Sherlock's orgasm sent him over the edge and he came hard.

Sherlock flopped backwards on his bed, groaning softly. "That was...interesting."

"Good interesting or bad interesting?"

"Very good interesting-" Sherlock's eyes widened. Someone was knocking on his door. 

 

 


	13. What's wrong with Sherlock?

“What?” John asked. “What's wrong?”

"Someone's at my door." Sherlock swallowed. "My brother I think. "

“Did he hear you do you think?”

"I...I don't know."  He winced as he heard another knock. 

"Clean yourself up and answer it," John said. "You don't want to get into anymore trouble. Go. Want me to stay on?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Best not. I'm already in deep shit." He stuffed himself back into his trousers.  There was nothing he could do about his soiled sheets. He wandered over to the door and unlocked it.

It wasn’t his brother.It was his father.

"There you are," he said when Sherlock finally opened the door. "I thought you'd run off again."

Sherlock frowned and opened the door a little further. "Not that you'd care if I did." 

"That isn't true," Nate said, frowning. He glanced back at Sherlock's room and raised an eyebrow. "What happened in here?"

"Nothing." Sherlock mumbled,  blushing a vibrant red.

"Sherlock, did you--?" Nate looked down at his son and smiled softly. "First time, right?"

"Yeh..." Sherlock swallowed and looked down at his feet guiltily. "It was."

"Hey. It's OK." Nate reached out and squeezed Sherlock's shoulder. "It's perfectly normal and natural. It's fine. Did you want to talk about it? Ask questions?"

Sherlock flinched away from his dad's touch. One of the bullies at his school had almost dislocated it earlier in the week. "It's fine. It's not rocket science." 

Nate frowned slightly when Sherlock flinched away, but he pulled his hand back anyway, not wanting to make the boy feel uncomfortable.

"OK. Well, things have been taken care of at the store. Everything's been paid for."

"Right. OK. Thanks for that." Sherlock turned his face away from his dad. "Can you leave now? Don't you have important things to do? "

"Not really. I'm off work for the holidays, and Mycroft is busy chatting with the boy he's tutoring, and Vi's napping. Did you maybe want to help me make dinner?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No thanks. Sounds dull. Besides,  I have an assignment that I want to complete before the busy Christmas period really starts. Can you leave now please?" 

"Oh. Um, sure. See you--" The door slammed shut in his face. "--at dinner."

"I don't want dinner! I shan't come down.  Eat without me."

Nate sighed sadly and shook his head. He trudged downstairs and plopped down on the sofa. He needed a nap, and since Vi was snoring loudly in the bedroom the sofa was his best bet.

Sherlock waited till his dad's footsteps were faded before creeping out of his bedroom in search of his brother. Mycroft had a lot of explaining to do. 

Mycroft was in his room, chatting with Gregory over Skype. The boy kept insisting to be called Greg, but Mycroft refused. It was like a special nickname for him that only Mycroft called him.

"Myc?" Sherlock asked from his brother's doorway. "Can I...come in?" 

Mycroft jumped, startled, and turned to Sherlock. "Jesus! You scared the crap out of me! What is it? What do you need?"

Sherlock scuffed his shoe along the floor. "I just wanted to talk. You haven't been replying to my texts or voice mails. Plus you haven't visited since we argued." 

"I know. Hang on."  He turned to his laptop. "I'll call you back, Gregory. My brother's here and wants to chat."

"Oh. OK. If I don't talk to you tomorrow, I hope you have a Happy Christmas, Mycroft."

"You too, Gregory."

"For God's sake! Just call me Greg."

"No." Mycroft smirked. Greg sighed and shook his head. "Goodbye, Gregory."

'Goodbye, Myc." Greg snickered and logged off before Mycroft could retaliate.

"What have I done wrong?" Sherlock asked in a quiet voice. "I feel like you're being passive aggressive towards me.  Do you hate me?" 

"No," Mycroft said softly. He closed his laptop and sighed deeply. "I guess I'm still a bit uptight about how you outed me to Mummy and Dad. I'm not as mad about it as I was, but it's still a sore spot. I'm sorry I haven't been the best brother lately. And I'm sorry about the rather bad spat we got in the last time I was home. I wish I was a better brother to you right now. You look like you could really use a shoulder to lean on."

Sherlock shook his head. "I'm fine. I'm not a baby. I don't need anything from you. I was just a little fucking pissed at you. That's all." 

"You sure? You don't have anything you want to talk about?"

Sherlock paused and licked his lips, then shook his head. "No. Nothing." 

"Well... OK," Mycroft said after a minute. "But please come to me if you need anything. And I mean anything. I'm here for you, Lock. Now and always. Even if or when we have bad spats in the future, I'll always be here for you."

"Yeh,  whatever. I've heard that line before. You don't mean it.  Just...never mind." Sherlock looked at his brother sadly before leaving in a hurry.

Mycroft pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to Sherlock.

*I mean it this time. I swear on Treasure Island. -My*

Sherlock didn't reply. Instead he went back to his room, locking the door behind him. He slipped under his covers and began to sob till he was too numb to do so anymore.  He didn't come out,  not even when his dad was calling him for dinner.

When Sherlock didn't come out after five minutes, Mr Holmes decided to let the boy be. He'd said he didn't want to come down for dinner, but Mr Holmes had held out some hope anyway. He sighed and went downstairs to the dining room where Violet and Mycroft were waiting.

"Is Sherlock not joining us?" Violet asked.

"I'm afraid not, love," Nate said. "He's had an off day, so I guess he just wants some time to himself right now."

"Has Sherlock been having a lot of off days?" Mycroft asked,  his eyes studying his parents. "Because he just seems so...I don't know...depressed?" 

Nate and Violet exchanged sad looks.

"We haven't noticed anything," Nate said. "But we've been so busy thinking about the baby it could have slipped right by us."

"When was the last time you saw him eating anything?" 

"Um... I think I saw him eat lunch yesterday," Violet said.

"You think?" Mycroft frowned. "Doesn't he seem thin to you? Why hasn't he been eating?"

"We don't know," Nate said softly. "We haven't... We've been shit parents lately."

"Yeh," Mycroft huffed. "You don't have to tell me." 

"Hey! Don't talk like you're so high and mighty!" Nate spat. "You haven't exactly been here for Sherlock either! You've been to busy with your boyfriend to even give the poor boy a call!"

"At least I've apologised to him! And at least I actually noticed something was wrong with him! "

"Shut up! You know nothing!"

"Tell me then,  what's wrong with Sherlock? Please feel free to inform me."

"Bullies!' Nate spat. 'He's being bullied and he thinks we don't know! But I know what bullying does to a boy! I know how it makes a boy shrink into himself and hide away and pick fights with anyone other than the bullies!"

"Bullies?" Mycroft frowned. "Have you talked to him about it or have you just ignored the issue entirely?"

"He hasn't been around to talk to about it! He's always holed up in his room, doing god knows what. He never answers the door, he never eats when we do, he just keeps himself to himself."

"The issue needs to be addressed." Mycroft stood to his feet and pushed his plate away. "I'll do it if you won't."

"Fine. Go. He actually listens to you," Nate said.

"Yes,  and imagine you're far too busy with your other child to bother talking to him. "

"Fuck you," Nate spat. "I've been too busy trying to keep the damn house to worry about anything else. And Vi knows how to take care of herself. She's done this three times now."

"Every pregnancy is different." Mycroft spat. "I see that we aren't children to you, but possessions. I feel sorry for this baby but I feel more concerned about Sherlock's wellbeing. "

"Children are precious gifts," Violet said softly, speaking up for the first time in ages. "I asked your father for another baby, and he gave it to me."

Mycroft softened slightly and sighed. "I'm sorry mummy. I'm just worried about Sherlock."

"I know. I am too. I'll come with you when you talk to him. He probably needs me right now, you know?"

"OK mummy. I'm sure he wants to see you too. Father should come too. It's Christmas. Shouldn't our family unite?"

"Yes. We should," Nate said softly.

"Bring some food with you. He's bound to be hungry. There's nothing to him. He's just skin and bone." 

Violet nodded and stood up. She put some food on a plate for Sherlock and grabbed some silverware and a napkin. Mycroft made his way to Sherlock's room, his parents not far behind him. 

Nate had a hand on the small of Violet's back, both to help steady her and ground himself.

 

 


	14. A Holmes Christmas

Sherlock frowned when he heard approaching footsteps. He curled further beneath his covers and clamped his hands over his ears. 

Mycroft knocked on the door loudly. Knowing Sherlock, he was either listening to music at full blast or curled up under his covers. So he banged on the door to get his attention either way.

Sherlock groaned when he heard the knock. "Piss off!"

"Not a chance!" Mycroft said loudly, not exactly shouting volume but louder than his normal tone of voice. 'Mummy and Dad are here with me. We brought you some of the dinner. And we'd like to be together on Christmas Eve. Now come open your door before I pick the lock!"

"You can do that?" Violet asked.

"Yes. YouTube," Mycroft said nonchalantly.

Sherlock sighed loudly and slipped out of bed, stomping to the door and unlocking it. "What do you really want?" He asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. 

"Christmas family time," Mycroft said. Violet held up the plate of food so Sherlock could see it, an apologetic smile on her face.

"I'm not hungry." He mumbled. "Maybe next year. You go ahead. Eat."

"Locky," Violet murmured. "Please. It's Christmas Eve. We should be together, as a family. Don't you want to sit around the fire with us and roast chestnuts and make popcorn and watch the holiday classics?"

"Why?" Sherlock asked. "You'd only ignore me for the whole evening. I don't see the point."

"No we wouldn't," Nate said softly. "Why don't we go downstairs and start a fire and you can give us the gifts you got for us?"

"You got us presents, ba-- love?" Violet caught herself before calling Sherlock her baby. She hadn't used the endearment since he told her not to after the incident with the homeless boy in the shack.

"I stole them, so they hardly count as gifts." 

"And I got you cleared of all charges," Nate said. "So they count as gifts now."

"You stole our presents?" Violet asked Sherlock.

"Yes mummy. I stole the gifts. Are you angry?" 

"No. I'm not angry, Sherlock. A little disappointed, but not angry. Do you want me to be angry?"

"Maybe." Sherlock nodded. "A little, yes. Being angry at me is better than ignoring me, isn't it?

"I haven't been ignoring you," Violet said softly. "You've been avoiding us. Because of the baby, right?" She smoothed a hand over her slightly pudgy stomach.

Sherlock took a step away from his mum and visibly cringed. "I don't want to be an older brother." 

"Why not?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly as she tried not to cry. "Is it because your father and I didn't tell you beforehand? Because you had to deduce it from us?"

"Why? Because since you've been pregnant you've...you've been so ignorant about what has been happening in my life. I feel like I don't even matter anymore because of...that thing in your stomach." 

"It's a baby," Violet choked out. "He or she is no more of an "it" than you or me. Sherlock, please, we're trying now. That's better than continuing our neglect. Please, baby." She gasped and covered her mouth when she realised what she'd said. "I'm sorry," she choked out, tears pooling in her eyes. "I'm sorry." She pushed the plate of food into Nate's hands and ran downstairs where she could cry in private.

Sherlock stared after his mum with a mixture of confusion and worry. "Is...is she OK?" 

"No," Nate said. "She's always worrying about you, Sherlock. And she still thinks of you as her baby even with the new baby on the way. She hasn't called you her baby since the shack incident. She misses it. I can tell. She misses /you/."

"If she misses me then why has she been ignoring me?" Sherlock asked accusingly. 

"I don't know," Nate snapped. "We don't know anything about you anymore. Because when you want to talk to us we're too busy and when we want to talk to you you want nothing to do with us. It's a lose-lose situation."

"Maybe you shouldn't be too busy for your son!" Sherlock snapped back. "Have you ever thought of that!?" 

"I'm trying to keep us afloat!" Nate shouted. "I'm keeping food on the table and a roof over our heads!"

"Stop yelling!" Violet yelled from downstairs. "I hate the yelling! Stop it!"

"I'm trying to keep us afloat!" Nate shouted. "I'm keeping food on the table and a roof over our heads!"

"Stop yelling!" Violet yelled from downstairs. "I hate the yelling! Stop it!"

"I'm tired of your shit!" Sherlock snapped at his dad. He turned to his brother. "I'm tired of your shit too! I suppose things would be easier if I weren't around to screw everything up."

"I'm tired of your shit too!" Mycroft screamed at him. "You've been nothing but a pain since I've been home! I was looking forward to a relaxing Christmas with my family, but instead I came back to World War Three! You," he pointed to Sherlock, "and you," he pointed to their father, "need to sit down and get your shit together because I'm sick of it! I've been back for barely a week and I already can't wait to go back to uni!"

Sherlock flinched and backed away from his father and brother. "If you feel that way then please go on ahead without me." He looked down at his feet. "Have a nice Christmas, then return to your precious university and work." 

"No," Mycroft growled. "You and Mummy and Father are sitting down and chatting. I will not tolerate our family being so distant on Christmas of all days. Now go down to the sitting room and talk to each other."

Sherlock wiped at his eyes. Tears were beginning to fall down his cheeks. "I don't want to do that. I don't want to be with people who treat me as bad as the people at school do. I thought I could count on my family to be there for me but I guess I was wrong." 

"So you /are/ being bullied?" Nate asked softly. "I've had my suspicions, but I didn't ask because I didn't want to upset you."

"You really succeeded at that,  didn't you? Not upsetting me I mean. Yes, I'm being bullied. Not that you care. If you cared then you would have tried to interfere."

"I was bullied too, Sherlock," Nate informed him. "Because of my sexuality. I was driven to the point that I nearly killed myself, but then I met your mom and she changed everything."

"I know you were bullied, which is why I don't understand why you didn't do anything to help me."

"I don't understand either," Nate admitted. "I don't know much about anything anymore."

"Did you hear me cry out in the night time because of nightmares? Why didn't you help me! "

"Nightmares? No. I've never heard you. I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I wish I could be a better dad to you. I'm so sorry. I wish there was something, /anything/ I could do to fix this."

"There's nothing anyone can do. It's too late for that."

"You can still report the bullies," Nate suggested. "But I know that won't do any good. You don't have any significant proof, and the shitty school system won't do anything either. You could transfer, perhaps? Maybe we could send you to a private school?"

Sherlock bit his lip and lifted up his top after a moment. "Actually...I have plenty of evidence."

"Good god," Mycroft breathed out.

"It's not as bad as it looks..." 

"Not as bad as it looks?" Mycroft looked at Sherlock's bruises. "Sherlock, you look like you've been used as a human punching bag."

"This is nothing." Sherlock shrugged. "I've had worse."

"Worse?" Mycroft gasped. "How much worse?"

"Well, for starters,  these bruises here are faded. They're  in the healing stages."

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock." Mycroft knelt down to inspect the bruises, a deep frown on his face. "The bullies will just deny they did this if you report them, you know? They'll say those bruises could have been made by anyone or just by playing dodgeball in the gymnasium. Do you have any more evidence, or are we going to have to go out and collect some like real detectives?"

"I don't want to make a fuss. That'll only make life harder for myself. The teachers know. They've been trying to get through to mummy and dad on the phone but they've been too busy to pick up.

"That's what those calls have been about?" Nate looked down at the plate of food in his hands and nearly threw it on the ground. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I... here." He shoved the plate of food into Sherlock's hands and went downstairs. He needed to reflect on what a shitty father he was.

Sherlock sighed miserably. "Everything is falling to shit because of that baby. Everything has changed, and not for the better either."

"You never know," Mycroft said softly. £I wasn't exactly keen on having a younger sibling when I found out Mummy was pregnant with you. I liked being an only child. I had all the toys to myself. I didn't like sharing. I still don't. Did I ever tell you that my roommate borrows my stuff without asking?"

"I bet they didn't ignore you though,  did they?" Sherlock whispered. He shoved the tray of food into Mycroft's arms. "Here. Eat this." 

"They did, actually. And I don't want this. I already ate." He pushed the food back into Sherlock's hands. "They forgot about me for a few months, like they're doing now. Dad worked his arse off so he could feed all four of us, and Mummy started focussing on keeping herself healthy and away from stress. They're reverting into old habits. I bet they did the same before I was born."

"What am I supposed to do?" Sherlock asked in a small voice. "I'm so alone Myc. It's like I don't even exist anymore. "

"They'll come out of their haze now that they know about your bullies and how you feel neglected and abandoned. Things should start to look up from here on out. Do you want to sit in your bed and we can just chat? Like we used to?"

"Sure. OK. I'd like that. I missed you Myc. It's not the same here without you."

"I'm sorry I haven't been here for you, Lock," Mycroft said softly. "Come on. Let's put some music on and pick at the food."

Sherlock nodded and shuffled into his bedroom. "Ah." He said, looking at his soiled sheets. "Perhaps your bedroom would be better?"

"Oh. Sure. Come on." Mycroft closed Sherlock's bedroom door and led him to his own bedroom. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm just gonna change into my pyjamas. This situation calls for puppy pyjamas, not a suit and tie."

Sherlock sat down on Mycroft's bed and began to pick at the food on the tray on his lap. Luckily the food was still warm and it tasted gorgeous. His mother was a fantastic cook.

Mycroft changed out of his fancy Christmas Eve clothes and into an old t-shirt he slept in and some pyjama trousers that had puppies all over them. He went over to his laptop and put on the special playlist he'd made for just such an occasion. Soft music soon filled the room and Mycroft climbed onto his bed across from Sherlock. He pinched off a piece of meat and popped it into his mouth. They nibbled on the food in a comfortable silence for a few songs.


	15. Holmes Confessions

Sherlock glanced at his brother through his overgrown locks after a few minutes.  "Will we be OK?" 

The two of us or the whole family?' Mycroft asked. 'Because they have different answers.'

"Both." Sherlock clarified. "Answer both of those questions."

"Well, as far as the two of us go, we'll definitely be OK. We're heading on the right track anyway. As for the rest of the family? It's hard to tell. But things should get better now that Mummy and Dad know how you feel."

"I hope so. I miss them paying attention to me. I just feel so...Small."

"I know." Mycroft reached forward and gently squeezed Sherlock's knee. "Things should start getting better now. If they don't, call me and I'll come back and yell at them for you."

"I wish I could live with you." Sherlock whispered. "You understand what I'm feeling."

"Maybe I can get a flat next year and you can stay with me," Mycroft offered. "I would have gotten one this year, but first years are required to live in the halls."

Sherlock brightened significantly. "That would be amazing. Wait. How can you afford a flat?" 

"I got a job. I start in January." Mycroft nibbled on a piece of turkey. " I'll keep an eye out for roommate requests or cheap flats in the area. We can live together, Sherlock. You can get away from this ignorant household."

Sherlock wrapped his arms around Mycroft and hugged him tight. "Thank you so much. I just want to get away. I need to escape."

"I know you do," Mycroft whispered. "I won't know about the apartment until around May time. So please hold on until then. Please don't get into trouble or hurt yourself or run away, OK? Stay strong so you can escape."

Sherlock nodded against Mycroft's neck and released him from his hug."Can Redbeard come too?"

"Of course. Of course. It might cost extra to have a pet, but I know how important Redbeard is to you. Where is he?"

There was a soft whine outside the door. Sherlock grinned and leapt of the bed.  "That'll be him. Can I let him in?"

"Of course. He's more than welcome to join us."

Sherlock opened the door and the pup-almost a dog now- practically knocked him over.   
  
"Hello boy." Sherlock grunted, rubbing at his chest. "Easy. I'm still sore." 

Redbeard barked and licked Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock kissed Redbeard on the nose gently and carried him over to the bed. He grabbed some of the scraps of food left on his tray and fed it to him.

He lapped it out of the boy's hands eagerly, but never bit nor engulfed the food whole.

"You've been training him well," Mycroft mused. "And he's certainly grown a lot since I last saw him."

"I love him." Sherlock patted Redbeard gently. "I've been looking after him as best I can. He's a great dog."

"Good. That's very good." Mycroft scratched Redbeard behind one of his ears. "And has he been taking care of you?"

"Yeh. Course he has. He loves me. Right boy?"  Redbeard barked and licked Sherlock's cheek.  "Redbeard has been the best thing to ever happen to me. He's always there for me."

"Good. That's why I got him for you. To watch over you and be there for you when I can't be."

"He's one of those the only reasons I haven't left this hell hole. I didn't want to leave him behind."

"I'm sorry it's been so rough for you, Lock," Mycroft murmured. "And I'm sorry I haven't been a better brother. But things will get better from here on out. If they don't, I'll yell at Mum and Dad a bit for you."

"I hope they'll get better. It's hell at school. Home should be a haven,  you know?"

"Yes. It should be. I don't mean to be rude, but this conversation is starting to make me hate our parents. Could we maybe change the subject? Why don't you tell me about your friend, John? Have you been speaking to him since, you know? I accused you of allegedly having a crush on him?"

Sherlock flushed a dark red. He felt a twitch of interest in his trousers and he could tell his pupils were blown. That’s what John did to him these days. Especially after the skype call they had shared together…  
  
"I...uh...He's good."

Mycroft didn't notice as he was too busy petting Redbeard. "Have you talked to him a lot?"

"Yes," Sherlock choked out, voice tight with arousal. 

"You OK?" Mycroft finally looked up at Sherlock. "You sound a bit... off."

"I'm fine...I think." Sherlock turned over so that Mycroft wouldn't see his very obvious erection. 

"Hey." Mycroft reached out and grasped Sherlock's leg. "You sure you're OK? Your ears have turned pink. Are you embarrassed by something?"

Sherlock shook his head quickly. "I'm not embarrassed by anything.  Embarrassment isn't what I'm feeling."

"Sherlock, your ears only turn pink when you're embarrassed. What's going on?" He gently tugged on Sherlock's leg, parting Sherlock's knees just a bit, and that was when he saw it. A very visible bulge in Sherlock's trousers.

"Oh. I see. Um... Do you want to talk about it? I promise not to make fun of you this time."

Sherlock groaned softly. "I don't want to talk about it. There's hardly anything to discuss."

"Sherlock, you're very clearly aroused. Do you want me to give you advice or anything?"

"Advice would be good." Sherlock mumbled bashfully. "I'm going light headed."

"Oh. Shit. All the blood's running south. Quick. Think of grapefruit or old people or seeing someone vomit at an amusement park."

Sherlock laughed softly. "Why would I think about all that when I can think about..." 

"Think about who?"

"John. John,  OK? I'd rather think about him."

"Oh." Mycroft smiled warmly at Sherlock. "So, you do like him? Or at least you like him now?"

"I think I love him."

"Love?" Mycroft asked softly. "You think you're in love with him?"

"No. I don't mean that kind of love. It's kinda like my love for Redbeard. He makes me happy and I like talking to him."

"Oh. OK. That's good. He must be a good friend if you love him like that."

"Yeh, he's great. I bet he's getting drunk tonight, it's Christmas eve after all. He won't be around to Skype."

"Well, at least you have me and Redbeard tonight. It's better than being alone on Christmas."

Sherlock smiled at his brother. "It might be a bit more exciting if you sneaked some booze into here. It's almost Christmas. Surely a little alcohol won't kill me. "

Mycroft smiled mischievously. "I can do that. Stay here. I'll be right back."

Sherlock grinned and lay himself down on the bed,  Redbeard lying beside him,  his tail wagging happily.

Mycroft snuck downstairs, being mindful not to interrupt his parents as they chatted in the sitting room. They were discussing options of whether sending Sherlock to a different school would be beneficial to him or not. Mycroft rolled his eyes and snuck into the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of scotch out of the liquor cabinet and two plastic cups. He successfully made it upstairs undetected.

Sherlock grinned when his brother returned with the goods. "Is that strong? I'm not really a drinker. I'm probably a lightweight. Oh well...suppose it doesn't matter if I get a little drunk." 

"It might be a bit strong for you, but you're just gonna be in here with me. It's not gonna hurt us to get a little drunk tonight." Mycroft sat on the bed and handed Sherlock one of the cups.

"I'm guessing you need the distraction too. Why? Are you stressed out because of university?"

"A bit, yeah." Mycroft poured them each some scotch and he tapped his cup to Sherlock's. "To our health."

"Our  health! " Sherlock grinned and began to sip at the alcohol slowly. He pulled a face. "Gah. That is strong." 

Mycroft took a sip and wrinkled his nose. "Yeah. God. That's awful. We should mix it with something. How about some Coca-Cola?"

"Nah." Sherlock shook his head. "Come on Myc. We're both adults. I'm sure the taste will grow on us." 

"Yeah. Fine." He held his cup in a toast. "To a better year."

"A better year." Sherlock repeated,  the alcohol hitting the back of his throat, providing a slight burning sensation. 

Mycroft drank what was left in his cup and poured some more into his. "So... tell me about John. What's he like? Where does he live?"

"He's great. He just listens to me, you know? He's a friendly ear. He calms me down when I'm upset. He lives in America. I'm not sure what state he currently lives in. He moves around a lot because of his parents work. I stopped keeping track a while back." 

"He sounds like a great friend for you, Lock." Mycroft sipped at his drink. " I'm glad you've found someone you can vent to when I'm not around. How long have you been talking to one another?"

"Not long but long enough to get to know each other. I feel like I really know him.His dad works for the military. I don’t think his mum works. I haven’t really pressed him about it. He’s not open about his family.”

"Oh. So I would assume he's got a not-so-happy family life either then."

"You could say that,  yeh. It's plain as day. He isn't a happy kid. Who is these days though? " 

"A valid point." Mycroft finished his drink and poured himself another one. The scotch didn't burn as much going down anymore, and Mycroft noticed his head felt a little light from the alcohol. He smiled softly and sipped at his drink some more.

Sherlock's head was starting to spin.  His chest,  his throat,  and his belly felt warm through. He held out his cup and giggled softly. "More please." 

Mycroft poured some more scotch into Sherlock's cup.

"Cheers." He raised his cup to tap it to Sherlock's.

Sherlock sniggered. "Cheers."   
  
He started to sip at the alcohol more insistently. 

" have a boyfriend," Mycroft blurted randomly. "I... I just wanted to tell you."

"I know." Sherlock bit his lip awkwardly. "Father spoke about him." 

Mycroft spluttered on the sip of scotch he'd just drank.

"You mean Gregory?" He laughed and shook his head, his smile quickly turning into a frown. "No. Gregory isn't my boyfriend. He's still dating a woman named Laura. No. I'm dating a man named Victor."

Sherlock reached out to his brother and hugged him gently. "You want Greg as your boyfriend though,  right? It's plain as day." 

"Yes." Mycroft sniffled and drank the rest of his scotch in two gulps. " I really like him. But Victor is nice too. He actually asked me out. So I said yes since Gregory isn't interested in me."

"Well...that's good." Sherlock said reassuringly. "You need someone to treat you right Mycroft. You can't waste your life pining after someone that you have no chance with. "

"Yeah. I know." Mycroft wiped his nose on his sleeve and sighed. "I think you'd like Victor. He's a bit older than me, but I kinda like that, you know?"

Sherlock giggled softly and pulled back from his brother, so that he could gently sip at his alcohol. 

"I know how you feel. John's older than me. It's kind of...an attractive look?"

"Yes," Mycroft hummed. "Means more experience." He poured himself more scotch. "Ss startin t' taste gud, yeh?"

Sherlock hiccuped in agreement. "Yeh. Deffo gud. Mmm. I'm a lil tipsy." 

"Meee toooo," Mycroft slurred out.

Sherlock held out his cup and looked at Mycroft with big puppy eyes.  "More?"  Mycroft hummed and poured some more scotch into Sherlock's cup.

Sherlock grinned giddily and began to sip at his refreshed cup. "Wanna ge' 'masssshed."

"K." Mycroft giggled. "We gun 'ave an 'ap-'ap-'appy chrimbas."

Sherlock continued drinking with his brother until his head was swimming and he wasn't able to sit up anymore. He felt warm all over and rosy cheeked.  The bottle was empty . Mycroft had left to find more of the good stuff. 

 

 

 

 


	16. Drunken Miscommunication

It was past midnight now, so their parents were asleep. Mycroft easily snuck into the kitchen and grabbed the first bottle he found from the pantry. He stumbled back upstairs and closed the door perhaps a bit too loudly behind him.

"More!" He announced to Sherlock who was half on, half off the bed.

Sherlock laughed joyfully and wriggled on the bed,  trying to remain on it rather than half off it. "Wat ya got?" 

"Um..." Mycroft peered at the label, squinting as he tried to make sense of it. "I fink iz a whisky."

"Open it!" Sherlock held out for the bottle with both of his hands. They had long ago abandoned their cups in favour for drinking straight from the bottle instead. 

"K." Mycroft unscrewed the cap and took a long gulp. When he finished, he passed the bottle over to Sherlock. He helped him sit up so he wouldn't spill anything.

Sherlock and Mycroft drank until the second bottle was completely  empty. By the time they'd finished it all off they were completely smashed,  almost paralytic because of the amount they had drank. 

"Mm gun seep nao," Mycroft slurred, his eyes already slipping shut.

"K." Sherlock mumbled. "N My? Merr-y chrimbash." 

Mycroft mumbled a garbled version of the holiday slogan before passing out. Sherlock passed out too, not looking forward to the hangover he was going to wake up with, but too drunk to really care.

////

Mycroft woke up early the next morning. His head was still fuzzy and his vision blurry. Fucking hell. He was still drunk. How much had he had last night?

He groaned and got out of bed, suddenly realising he had to piss like a racehorse. He ran to the loo and barely made it in time before his bladder decided to empty itself.

Sherlock whined softly and opened his eyes. He could barely make out the world around him. It was all a thick blur. What had happened last night?  Redbeard sniffed at Sherlock's face and tenderly licked his cheek.

*How drunk am I?*

The thought span round Sherlock's mind sickeningly fast. It felt like he was spinning, despite still being laid out on the bed in a starfish position. He tried to look for his brother but it proved to be too difficult of a task, so he just lay there, almost dead-like. 

Mycroft emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later. He stumbled back to the bed and collapsed onto it, trying to avoid landing on Sherlock.

Sherlock let out a surprised squeal. Mycroft's attempt at not falling on him had partially failed, and the older boy was crushing him with his hefty body. 

"Mycroft..." He wheezed out, trying to shove the boy off of him. 

Mycroft groaned and attempted to roll over. He underestimated just how far onto the bed he was and he ended up falling on the floor with a loud thud.

Sherlock groaned and rolled to the edge of the bed. "Are...you..OK?"

Mycroft groaned and waved a dismissive hand. "Mmm good,"he groaned.

Sherlock reached out a hand to help Mycroft up. "I f-f-feel kinda funny."

"Shtill pished," Mycroft slurred as he crawled up onto the bed.

"A bit not good?" Sherlock mumbled, his words slurred. "Mum's gonna be wakin' up soon."

"Shhhhhh," Mycroft shushed him. "Jus go back t' sleep. She won know nuthin."

Sherlock heard a soft knock on the bedroom door and groaned. "Uh oh."

"Shhh," Mycroft whispered. "Jus pretend t' be sleepin."

"B' My," Sherlock whined. "I really need a pee."

Mycroft groaned. "Then go piss. I'll talk wif Mummy."

"I can't get up." Sherlock huffed. "Help me."

Mycroft groaned and rolled off the bed. He stumbled over to Sherlock and tried to help him stand so he could go use the loo. Sherlock grunted and swayed dangerously, his body not agreeing with his choice to stand.

"Come on," Mycroft grunted. "I'll help ya t' th' loo. I dun wan ya pissin' yaself on my floor."

Sherlock whined softly in reply. "Dun want that. Ge' me t' the loo." 

They shuffled off to the loo, ignoring the increasingly louder knocks on the door.

Sherlock emptied his bladder when he eventually reached the toilet. He sighed softly in relief and just about managed to pull his boxer shorts back up by the time his parents stormed into the room. 

"Boys!" Mr Holmes roared. "Where has my good liquor gone?! Did you drink it?!"

"Don't yell!" Mycroft shouted.

"Are you drunk?'" Mrs Holmes asked.

"Yes!"

"But... but it's Christmas!"

Sherlock bit his lip and looked at his brother with wide eyes. "I...it's my fault. Sorry mummy." 

"No, Lock, s'not," Mycroft said. "Iz mine."

Sherlock reached out to his brother and whimpered,  burying his head against him. "Shhh, Lock," Mycroft whispered. He pet Sherlock's hair and hugged him softly. "Iz OK."

"I just wan' my bed." Sherlock sniffled. "I'm so tired."

"K," Myc said. "Come on." They walked past their parents without any trouble and made their way to Sherlock's room. Redbeard followed along behind them.

Sherlock collapsed onto the bed with a soft groan and Redbeard leapt up beside him, licking his face gently. 

"No, boy," Mycroft said. He gently pushed Redbeard away from Sherlock's face. "He might be sick."

Sherlock hummed in agreement. "Please don't boy. I really don't feel well." 

Redbeard whined and jumped down onto the floor. He sat by Sherlock's head and rested his own by it, whining softly.

Sherlock patted Redbeard gently. "It's OK boy. You can lick me when I feel better. "

Redbeard poked his tongue out and licked Sherlock's fingers.

"He should probably be let outside to do some business," Mycroft said. " I'll take him and then come back to check on you. Here's a bin should you get sick whilst I'm gone." He passed Sherlock his garbage bin and led Redbeard out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

"OK." Sherlock whispered. He looked over to where his parents were and bit his lip.  
  
"I'm sorry. I ruined Christmas."

"No you didn't, baby," Mrs Holmes whispered. "We did. We've been so preoccupied with the baby we never noticed you. I'm so sorry, love. Can you ever forgive me?"

Sherlock looked at his mummy, a sceptical expression etched onto his features. "I...OK. I forgive you. "

Violet frowned and rubbed her belly. "Do you mean that?" she asked softly. "Or are you just saying that to make me leave?"

"Yeh...I do." Sherlock whispered,  smiling softly. "I've missed you mummy."

Violet smiled softly at Sherlock. "I've missed you too, baby."

"You have a funny way of showing it." Sherlock frowned. "You've...been ignoring me."

"I'm trying to apologise for that, but you aren't listening to me," Violet whispered.

"I...I'm trying to. I just...it's hard." Sherlock turned away from his mum. "I don't know where I belong anymore. "

"Do you want to be alone for a bit?" Violet asked softly. "Or... I could maybe stay and we can cuddle?"

"I don't want to hug you whilst you've still got that parasite in your stomach."

Violet gasped and placed her hands over her stomach protectively.

"Why must you be so cruel?" she asked, tears forming in her eyes.

"I don't know. Maybe I learned to be cruel from you." Sherlock spat back furiously. 

Violet burst into tears and ran from the room.

Sherlock let out a shrill scream and curled into a tight ball. Why was communicating with his mum so hard lately?


	17. Brotherly Assistance

A few hours passed, everyone in the house in their own separate corners. Violet was curled up on her bed, still crying; Mycroft was in the kitchen, feeding Redbeard and making himself something to eat to offset the alcohol still in his system; and Nate was in his office, trying to finish up a proposal before he had to go back to work the next day.

At some point the young Holmes boy fell asleep. When Sherlock next awoke he felt groggy.  His hangover was ten times worse than it had been before, his body now void of alcohol. Redbeard was sat at the foot of Sherlock's bed, curled up in a ball. He wasn't sleeping. Just keeping an eye on his boy.

Sherlock reached out to Redbeard blindly,  whimpering softly. "Boy, go get Myc. I need Myc. He'll know...how to make me feel better."  Redbeard licked Sherlock's fingers before jumping off the bed and searching for Mycroft.

Sherlock lay incredibly still,  listening to the sound of his own shaky breathing.  He waited for Redbeard to return with his brother,  and after a few moments he heard stumbling footsteps climbing up the stairs.   
  
"Myc..." he wheezed out. " Myc...I'm scared. My head is on fire." 

"It's a hangover," Mycroft murmured. "You'll live. You should take a warm bath. I'll bring you something light to eat and something to drink. But I'll help you to the loo first. You look like you're gonna be sick."

Sherlock shook his head and groaned softly.  " Please...just stay here with me. I just want my big brother." 

"OK," Mycroft said softly. "But here's the bin in case you need it." He gently pushed Sherlock's trash bin closer to the side of his bed. He then gingerly crawled behind Sherlock and cuddled him close.

"Why would anyone want to drink?" Sherlock groaned softly. "Everything hurts so much. It's like someone's thrown up on my brain."

"It's supposed to be done in moderation," Myc said softly. "So that this sort of stuff doesn't happen."

"You did this to me." Sherlock accused." You made me drink way too much."

"I did no such thing." Mycroft smiled against Sherlock's back. "I'll take half the blame though. I did supply the alcohol after all."

"That makes you responsible." Sherlock huffed. "You're older. You're in charge."

"OK. Yes. It's all my fault," Mycroft murmured. "Apologies."

"Why aren't you hungover? You must have drank as much as me, maybe even more." 

"I vomited earlier. Plus I've eaten. And I'm older and have been drinking longer than you. My body is used to it."

"It's hardly fair. When will my head go back to normal? It feels like it’s on fire." 

"Depends. May be a couple if hours or the rest of the day. Food and water help though. Just eat at your own pace so you don't get sick. Unless you want to be sick. Vomiting helps loads."

Sherlock groaned and shook his head slightly. "I don't want to vomit. I hate vomiting." 

"I know. But sometimes you can't help it. Vomiting really does help."

"No. What would help is if you could just shut up. I need quiet...be quiet."

Mycroft clamped his lips shut and nodded. Redbeard licked Sherlock's fingers.

"I got you a present." Sherlock said after a few minutes of harsh silence. "I stole it." 

"I know," Mycroft whispered. "Father told me."

"I'm not sorry I stole. I wasn't left with many options.  Mummy and dad have stopped my pocket money. " 

"What? When did they do that?"

"When the...parasite came into the picture." 

"It's a baby, Sherlock. It's not an evil being."

"You're wrong." Sherlock bit his lip and tried to fight off the tears now shining in his eyes. "It is evil. It's made my life hell."

"It's a foetus, Sherlock. It isn't capable of that yet. You might actually like being an older brother. Just give things a chance. Please?"

"No. Why should I? I already hate being a big brother. " 

"That might very well change when you see your baby sibling. Maybe we'll get a baby sister."

"Ick. Girls are dumb. I bet she'll be idiotic and ordinary."

"And having another brother would be any better?" Mycroft asked. "I think a girl would be a welcome change from all the testosterone in the house."

"I don't want another sibling full stop." 

"Why not?" Mycroft asked softly.

"Because our parents will forget all about me." 

"No they won't," Mycroft murmured. "They'll value you more than ever with a baby around. Once you start helping out and making things a little easier they'll be treating you like royalty."

"I don't want to be royalty. I just want to be their son. Is that too much to ask?"

"No. You should tell them that."

"I can't. I struggle...struggle to speak to them. I don't know what to say anymore."

"I could go with you the next time you talk to them," Mycroft offered. "Would that help?"

"I doubt it. They just don't listen. Mummy cries,  then dad gets angry. "

"Mummy is extremely hormonal right now. It's not your fault if she cries. And Father is just trying to keep her happy because..." Mycroft stopped and chewed on his lip. He didn't know if he should say any more. He wasn't technically supposed to know what he did anyway.

Sherlock swallowed thickly. "Because?  What's that supposed to mean?  What aren't you telling me?" 

"I... I overheard them talking earlier," Mycroft said softly. "Da said Mum had to stay calm lest she lose the baby. Apparently there's something wrong with mum that could easily cause an accidental miscarriage. And I know you don't want to be a big brother, but you don't want to see Mummy after she's lost a baby. It happened before."

Sherlock swallowed again and turned his head slightly so that he was looking at Mycroft. "It has?" 

"Yes," Mycroft whispered solemnly. "I didn't know it at the time. I was far too young. It was when they were trying to have another child so I could be a big brother. Mummy was so excited. I had been a happy accident, so they wanted to try again."

"Mummy was three months along, like she is now, when something happened. She got ill. Really ill. Father took her to hospital where they tried everything to save the baby, but it was too late. Mummy was devastated. She rarely left the house, let alone her bedroom. She just moped around. Barely existing. It took her years to gain enough trust and confidence to try again. This is where you come in, and why our age gap is what it is."

Mycroft paused and breathed for a moment before continuing.

"Mummy babies you because you're lucky to be alive. You are her precious miracle, and she will always think of you that way. This new baby... it won't replace you and it won't make Mummy forget you. She will always look upon you two as her miracles. I'm just an accident who pushed our parents together."

Sherlock swallowed thickly. "So technically I shouldn't even exist. I came as a shock to them. I'm the child that they didn't really want. Whereas this time around they planned for another child. How is that fair? What does that make me? "

"Nonononononononono," Mycroft said. "You were planned. I was the accident. You were the baby Mummy and Father desperately wanted to live. They planned to have you, and they did everything in their power to make sure Mummy carried you to term. They planned to have you and they made sure you survived. Now they're doing the same for this baby."

 "Somewhere along the way, they stopped loving me."

"They haven't stopped," Mycroft said softly. "They haven't. They're busy fighting to keep this baby alive. Once they're in the clear, things should start to relax and return to a somewhat normal state."

"If they fought so hard to get me into this world then why have they stopped caring about me? I want it back to normal now. I want them to give a damn about me again. "

"They still do, Lock. They do. It's just difficult because you're going one way when they want to go another."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked accusingly. "It's not my fault that things are like this. It's theirs."

"It's no one's fault specifically. Everyone is trying to do their own thing to try and fix this and no one else is doing the same thing. I don't know what I'm trying to say. Just... it isn't your fault and yet it is, and it isn't our parents fault and yet it is. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"No. You're just hurting my head even more. I don't understand. It's either my fault or it isn't. "

"It's everyone's fault," Mycroft said. "We're all trying to fix things but we're only making things worse."

"Do you really think we can fix things? "

"I think so, yes," Mycroft said softly. "It will take time and effort, but we should be able to fix things."

"I want to move in with you. I want out of this poisonous household." 

"I wish I could do that, but we aren't allowed permanent guests in the dormitories." Mycroft hugged Sherlock close. "Didn't you want to go stay with Uncle Rudy a while ago? Why not ask him?"

"Maybe,  yeh. He's cool. He's laid back,  and he won't always be on my case."

"And he likes dogs, so Redbeard will be welcome."

"Yeh,  I think I might go live with uncle Rudy."

"Good. That should be a nice escape for you."

"It'll make mummy sad though." Sherlock swallowed guiltily. "I hate the baby but I don't want mummy to lose it. What if my leaving pushes her too far? They'd never forgive me. I need to get away, Myc. I can't stay here anymore. I don’t know what to do." 

"I know," Mycroft whispered. "And you should get away. Give Uncle Rudy a call tomorrow. Tell him what's going on and I'm sure he'll come pick you up. Mummy and Father will understand why you have to go."

"You think so? They won't be angry?"

"They'll understand why you're leaving," Mycroft murmured. "Mummy will be sad to see you go, but she won't force you to stay. Your happiness is what is most important to her."

"Can you help me talk to her? After this hangover is gone that is. I don't think I could deal with a shouting match right now."

"Of course. I'll stand by you, Lock. Do you think you're able to take a shower now? Getting some moisture back into your skin might help with your hangover. And I can bring you some toast if you like."

Sherlock slowly lifted his head, testing if he was able to move without throwing up. He grunted after a few moments. "Help me to the shower? I think I'm OK to move. "

"Of course" Mycroft got off the bed slowly, not wanting to jostle Sherlock too badly. He went over to the other side and helped Sherlock off the bed and they slowly shuffled toward the bathroom.

Sherlock whined and groaned all the way to the bathroom,  his whole body protesting his movement.  
  
 "Turn on the shower for me? I can't reach. Everything hurts."

Mycroft nodded and turned on the water so it would be warm when Sherlock got in.

"Want me to help you get your clothes off too?"

Sherlock nodded and looked at the ground like a helpless puppy.   
  
"Sorry. I just feel so shitty right now." 

"It's fine. You don't have to keep apologising. I'm here to help, Lock."

Mycroft gingerly took off Sherlock's clothes and tossed them outside the bathroom in a pile. "You okay to wash yourself?"

Sherlock shook his head and he groaned against Mycroft.

"Okay. I'll help." Mycroft took off his own clothes and the two of them stepped into the shower.

"Thanks," Sherlock whispered, letting his brother support him upright.

"No problem, Lock," Mycroft murmured softly. Together they washed themselves, Sherlock relaxing a bit as the warm water soothed his headache slightly.

After a while Sherlock's eyes began to flutter shut and he rested his head more firmly upon his brother's shoulder. "I feel much better now." 

"Good," Mycroft said softly. "That's good. Think you might be able to stomach some toast?"

"I can try. I don't feel very hungry. Can I just have a little bit of plain toast?" 

"Of course." Mycroft turned off the shower and wrapped Sherlock in a fluffy towel. "Do you want to go lie down while I go make the toast?"

Sherlock nodded. "Can you help me to bed? I still feel a bit shaky. "

"Sure." Mycroft helped Sherlock back to bed and tucked him into the sheets so he wouldn't get cold. "I'll be right back. Do you want one slice of toast or two?"

"Just one. I don't want to eat much. I still feel nauseous. "

"OK. You just relax. I'll be back in a few minutes." Mycroft dashed into the bathroom to pull on a pair of pants at least and then went downstairs to make Sherlock some toast.

 

 


	18. The Illusion Of Family Happiness

Whilst in bed,  Sherlock reached for his phone beneath the covers. His hand clasped around the familiar object. He turned it on and  turned the brightness down so it wouldn't hurt his head much. He typed a quick message to John on tumblr.   
  
*I'm so hungover right now but I miss you. Skype?*

John looked down at his phone when the email chime went off. Sherlock had sent him a message on tumblr! He eagerly checked it and chuckled softly, shaking his head.

*Hungover? Partied a bit too hard on Christmas Eve? Sure we can Skype. I'll log on now.*

Sherlock clicked on the button to call John's Skype and waited for the familiar image of the teenage boy.   
  
"I wouldn't say party." He said in a small voice. "Had a bit of a tough Christmas if I'm being honest. 

"Uh oh." John frowned slightly. "What happened?"

"I've just been having a hard time with my folks lately. My brother sneaked us some alcohol. We both drank way too much. I got hit the hardest though. "

"Probably because you're younger, yeah?" John asked. "What's going on with your folks?"

Sherlock nodded and winced slightly. "I'm younger and I'm not a drinker. As for my folks...it's complicated. We just don't see eye to eye anymore,  I guess." 

"I've been there with my own folks," John said softly. "We still don't see eye-to-eye on most things, especially my smoking and occasional use of weed. But things are better than they used to be."

"You smoke?" Sherlock asked,  slightly appalled. "You know that's killing you, right?" He flushed a soft pink. "Sorry. I've actually thought about smoking myself. I haven't but I've felt like it on many occasions, so I'm hardly someone who can or should pass judgement on you." 

"Yes, I smoke. I'm technically not legal yet, so don't tell anyone." John held a finger to his lips and smirked. "You have to be 18 to buy cigarettes in America. Is that the same in England?"

Sherlock waved a dismissive hand.  "It doesn't matter what the legal age is. People are always going to find a way to smoke. My brother's smoked since he was an early teen." 

"Same," John said. "Though I've only been smoking for a couple of years. It used to be just an occasional thing, but now it's pretty much an addiction. I go through a pack a day."

Sherlock's face creased slightly. "Hence why I haven't smoked.  It's an expensive habit." 

"It really is. I don't recommend it." John licked his lips and stared at Sherlock. "So... about yesterday..."

Sherlock flushed immediately. "I,uh, uh....What about yesterday?" 

"You know." John flushed crimson and gnawed on his lip. "I... I've never done that before."

"Really?"

"Yeah." John blushed deeper. "No one's ever seen my prick before."

"I've never shown anyone my prick before either." Sherlock froze when he felt a presence in the room.  It was his brother with the toast he'd asked for. 

"Hey," John said. "You OK? What's wrong? You look scared."

"My brother is listening to us."

John swallowed thickly. "Did he hear...?" He left the question open-ended. Sherlock nodded and slowly turned his head, locking eyes with his completely stunned brother. 

"Fuck," John whispered.

"Mycroft...What are you thinking right now? Tell me." 

"I..." Mycroft paused and snapped his mouth shut. "It's none of my business. I'm the last person who should judge you on your choice of companion."

"So you're not going to tell mummy and father?" Sherlock asked, his face creased with worry.

"No. I'm not that cruel."

"Good. " Sherlock swallowed. "That's...good. I don't want them to know about this. "

"Yeah. No problem."

"Um... should I go?" John asked.

"Please don't go." Sherlock whispered.   
  
He turned around to his brother. "I don't believe you've met John.  Come closer. He doesn't bite." 

Mycroft and John both laughed. Mycroft stepped forward and smiled at the boy on Sherlock's screen.

"Hello."

"Hi. I'm John."

Sherlock sighed in relief as his brother and John began talking to each other. They seemed to be getting along well.

 Mycroft asked John about his life in America.

"It's OK." John shrugged. "My dad's in the army, so we move around a lot. We're in Oklahoma right now."

At some point Sherlock felt himself dose off. John and Mycroft barely seemed to notice.  They continued speaking until Sherlock let out a loud snore. 

John laughed. "Sorry," he said softly, not wanting to wake Sherlock. "Guess I should go.'" Sherlock whined softly in his sleep, telling John to stay. He didn’t much like the idea of John leaving. No.

"OK," John whispered. "I'll stay."

Sherlock's phone eventually slipped from his hand, the boy completely out of it. He found himself comforted by the presence of both his brother and John. 

John and Mycroft continued to talk softly as Sherlock slept. Mycroft wanted to get to know the American boy who had captured his little brother's interest. He must be very special to have done that.

////

Sherlock awoke the next morning, his phones battery completely dead and the weight of his sleeping brother practically crushing him. Mycroft snored loudly and cuddled closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock grunted and poked his brother in the ribs. "Get off me."

Mycroft whined and turned over. "Dun poke me," he mumbled before he fell back asleep.

Sherlock breathed out on relief, his  lungs no longer constricted by the weight of his brother.  His head felt much better now but he was both hungry and thirsty. The toast his brother had brought in had been eaten. Mycroft must have gotten hungry in the night.   
  
That was fine. Sherlock didn't particularly fancy cold toast anyway. He gently sneaked out of the bed covers, landing on his feet with a soft thud. Redbeard whined softly, greeting him by gently licking his hand.   
  
"Shhh boy. You'll wake up Mycroft. Let's go down to the kitchen, yeh?"

Redbeard huffed against Sherlock's hand in reply. Sherlock smiled softly at the dog and began to make his way downstairs to the kitchen.  He paused midway, sniffing the air. It smelled like Christmas; a distinct smell of roast dinner cooking clung to the air. What was going on? Hadn't they missed Christmas? 

Redbeard loped into the kitchen and nosed at Violet's feet. She laughed and dropped a piece of meat onto the floor. Redbeard lapped it up and ran back over to Sherlock.

"Oh!" Violet gasped softly. "You're up. Good morning, love. How'd you sleep?"

Sherlock stared at his mum, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I slept OK. What's going on?"

"Well, since we missed Christmas, I figured we could celebrate today." She put the roast back in the oven and set the timer.

"Celebrate what exactly? The fact that our family is falling apart?"

Violet stiffened and shook her head.

"No," she said fiercely. "No. I'm not going to give in to you today. We are celebrating Christmas today, whether you wabt to or not. Now go upstairs and get dressed. And wake your brother up."

"Ugh.  Fine." Sherlock huffed and stormed out of the kitchen. Redbeard loped after him, his tail wagging and his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Come on boy. Let's wake Myc up, yeh?" 

"A-roof!" Redbeard said, his tail wagging faster.

Sherlock made his way back to his bedroom.  He creaked open the door.  "Go get him boy!  Go wake him up!"

"Ruff! Ruff!" Redbeard ran to the bed and leapt onto it. He ran up to Mycroft and began licking his face.

"Gah!" Mycroft cried. "What the-- Redbeard! Gah!"

"Wakey Wakey,  eggs and bacey!" Sherlock laughed and ran up to the bed too,  leaping on top of his brother.

"Good god!" Mycroft cried. "Help! Ambush!"

Sherlock began to tickle his brother,  poke him, and bounce up and down on his belly.  "Come on! Wake up Myc!"

"Gah! I'm awake! I'm awake! Stop bouncing or I'm gonna puke!"

Sherlock stopped bouncing and grinned. " How's your head?" 

"Fine." Mycroft sat up and rubbed his stomach. "I see you're feeling much better."

"Yep. I'm younger. I guess I bounce back faster." 

"That doesn't make any sense. I was sober before you were."

Sherlock shrugged.  "You still feel a little rough though. I can deduce everything about you these days. It takes you longer to fully shake off the after affects."

"I feel fine," Mycroft huffed. He sniffed the air and gave Sherlock a confused look. "Why do I smell roast?"

"Because mummy thinks it'll solve everything if we can play happy families for one afternoon."

"Then I think we should indulge her." Mycroft got out of bed and stretched. "And you should plug in your phone. I used all the battery. Sorry. John and I talked for quite a while. He's a very nice young man."

"It's OK. I usually charge it in the morning anyway. So...you like him? You approve?"

"Yes. I approve. He's great."

Sherlock beamed brightly. "Isn't he though? He's amazing. "

"Yeah. He's cool. I think he'll be good for you."

Sherlock flushed a soft pink colour and bit his lip. "I think so too." 

"Are you going to Skype with him again tonight?" Mycroft asked.

"I Skype him most nights, to be honest. Why? "

"He said he wanted to ask you something. He didn't say what."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "How curious. I wonder what he wanted to ask me."

Mycroft shrugged. "You'll find out tonight. Come on. Let's play happy family for the evening to appease Mummy. Bring your gifts. I'm sure presents will be part of the evening."

Sherlock groaned softly. "Why are we doing this? I don't understand. " 

"To make Mummy happy. Don't you want her to be happy?"

"I suppose." Sherlock sighed. "If I must."

"It's just one day, Sherlock," Mycroft said softly. "And then you can call Uncle Rudy and tell him you need a break from family and you want to stay with him for a while."

Sherlock sighed softly and nodded. "OK.  I just hope mum doesn't think this will fix everything."

Mycroft didn't say anything. He'd been giving in to their mother's whims for years just to keep her happy. She obviously needed the illusion that her family wasn't falling apart as she would most likely fall apart herself. And he couldn't do that to his dear mummy.


	19. Home Truths

 "Come on. They're expecting us. "

Mycroft led Sherlock downstairs. Redbeard trotted long beside his boy. Mycroft plastered a small smile onto his face when they entered the kitchen.

"Hi, Mummy," he said.

Sherlock looked down at his feet and mumbled. "Hi mummy." 

Violet smiled at them and clapped her hands together. "My boys," she sighed happily. "Thank you for getting Myc up, love. Now we can have our feast. Nate!" She called. "It's time for the roast!"

Sherlock glanced at his brother, exchanging a look with him that said ‘are we really doing this? ‘ Mycroft nodded curtly. Sherlock sighed heavily,  barely looking up when his dad entered the kitchen. 

"Smells delicious, love," Nate said when he came into the kitchen. He kissed her on the cheek and smoothed a hand over her belly.

Sherlock made a gagging sound and glared across at his parents.

"Sherlock," Mycroft grumbled. Nate scowled at Sherlock. He stood straight and lifted his chin, staring Sherlock down. 

Sherlock stared right back at his dad,  his eyes narrowed into two angry slits.  

"So," Nate said stiffly. "How are you feeling this afternoon? Hangover gone?"

"I feel fine. No hangover."

"Good. That's good." Nate sniffed and wrinkled his nose.

"Well!" Violet said, trying to diffuse the tension. "Let's eat! Presents after."

"I suppose," Sherlock said. "If we have to."

"Give us a moment," Mycroft said to their parents. He grabbed Sherlock's arm and dragged him into the sitting room.

"Drop the attitude, Sherlock," he whispered. "Just one day. Just one. You can go to your room after presents and lock yourself in there for the rest of the day. Just please try to be pleasant. For Mummy."

"Why should I have to pretend I'm happy when I'm so sad inside? Doesn't anyone care about my feelings?" 

"I do, Sherlock. I do. But just pretend for a few hours and then you can stop. Please? I know our parents are dicks, but it's the holiday season. Families fake being happy all the time this time of year."

"I'm tired of faking that I'm OK."Sherlock choked out. "Can't you see how much I'm hurting? This isn't fair."

"Oh, Sherlock," Mycroft whispered. He pulled him in for a hug. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's not fair and I want no part in this horrible facade!" Sherlock sobbed against his brother softly. 

"I know. I know," Mycroft whispered. He rubbed a hand up and down Sherlock's back as he tried to comfort him. "Let's just fill our plates and eat in your room."

Sherlock nodded against Mycroft's chest and pulled away. "But mummy..."

"I know," Mycroft said solemnly. "What do you want to do, Lock? Stay with Mummy or go to your room?"

"I want to go to my room but this isn't about what I want, is it? It's about keeping mummy happy."

"Yes," Mycroft said softly. "I'm afraid it is."

"Then I'll brave it, if I have to." 

"Okay," Mycroft whispered. "Take a deep breath and relax, okay? Put a mask on and we'll go fake being happy for Mummy."

Sherlock sucked in a deep breath. "OK. Let's get this over and done with."

Mycroft nodded and they went back into the dining room. Nate and Violet were already sat at the table, Violet looking worried and Nate a mixture between pissed off and apathetic.

"Sorry mummy." Sherlock apologised, though deep down he didn't truly mean it.

"It's alright, love," she said softly. "Please sit with us. I'd like us to have some semblance of Christmas cheer in the house. Even if only for a few hours."

"And then can I go back to my room?" Sherlock asked in a small and defeated voice. 

"Presents first," Violet said, her tone leaving no room for arguing. "Then, yes, I suppose you can hide away in your room again."

"Fine." Sherlock sighed heavily. "I suppose. As long as you realise your present is stolen."

"Yes, I know," Violet said softly.

"You stopped my pocket money. I had no other choice." 

"I didn't stop your pocket money," Violet said. She turned to look at her husband. "Nate? Why did you stop Sherlock's pocket money?"

Sherlock looked at his father with questioning eyes.  "Why father? Did I do something wrong?

"Nate," Violet said sternly. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Tell me. Now."

"Dad?" Sherlock frowned, deducing something that made him feel a little sick. Considering his father had paid for the stolen gifts out of his Christmas bonus. " You...are we in big money trouble?" 

Nate sighed forcefully through his nose. He looked at Violet, guilt drowning him. "Yes,"he whispered. "I... I've been gambling to help pay bills... but it got out of hand far too quickly. I... I lost all our savings." He looked away from his family and stared down at his plate of food. "I'm so sorry," he choked out.

Sherlock's lower lip trembled. "You gambled away my pocket money? "

"I gambled away everything but the house and the car," Nate mumbled in shame.

"But what about my university tuition!" Mycroft cried. "How am I supposed to get an education?"

"It's OK Myc." Sherlock whispered. "You aren't earning enough to have to pay it off. You shouldn't have to worry about that just yet.  You’ll just have to get a student loan like any other normal person.”

"I don't care!" Mycroft yelled. "He gambled away all our money! How on earth did you afford our presents this year? And the tree? And the food?"

"What about Redbeard's vet bills?  He needs injections to protect him. That costs money. He won't be able to have them now."

"I'm sorry!" Nate screamed. He slammed his hands down on the table, causing his silverware to jump. "I'm sorry I lost all our money, I'm sorry Redbeard won't get his shots, and I'm sorry I'm such a fuck-up of a dad!" He stood up from the table, knocking his glass over in the process and spilling wine all over the fancy tablecloth and the floor.

"Fuck!" he screamed before storming off to the garage.

Sherlock flinched. Emotions welled up inside of him. His eyes shone bright with the threat of tears. He glared at his mum accusingly. "Look at what you've done. You and your baby.Things were fine before you got pregnant!" 

"Stop blaming the baby!" Violet cried. "It hasn't done anything wrong!"

"It put too much pressure on dad and now he's gambled all our money away!"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Violet screamed. "This family is falling apart and I can't take it anymore!"

"Me neither!" Sherlock screamed, storming from the room. Redbeard loped after him. The screaming unsettled him.

Sherlock slammed his bedroom door shut and sat on his bed, breathing in and out heavily. He looked at Redbeard and called him over, needing something to comfort him. The Irish Setter made his way over to his boy and jumped up on the bed. He placed his head on Sherlock's lap and looked up at him with big, sad brown eyes.


	20. Running Away

"We're not wanted anymore boy. Neither of us are wanted. "

Redbeard whined softly.

Sherlock sucked in a deep breath,  trying to clear his thoughts. He could hear his mum and brother arguing. His father was probably drinking to try and block out everything.  No one had even noticed he was gone.   
  
"Maybe that's the solution." Sherlock whispered.  "Maybe I should leave...For Good. No one would miss me. "

 Redbeard whined again and nosed at Sherlock's hand.

"Don't worry boy. I know you would miss me." Sherlock patted the pup. "So...come with me. We can runaway together."

Redbeard woofed softly and licked at Sherlock's fingers.

"You should eat." Sherlock sniffled. "I don't know when your next meal will be if you come with me." 

Redbeard didn't budge. He stayed right beside Sherlock.

"Redbeard, please. Go eat. I need to figure out a plan."

Redbeard whined, not wanting to leave his boy.

Sherlock huffed softly. "Fine. Just don't blame me if you're hungry later." 

Redbeard huffed and jumped off the bed. He lied down in front of the door and watched as Sherlock moved about the room, grabbing things and stuffing them in a bag.

* * *

 

Sherlock stuffed his bag with everything necessary for a long stay:  a few of his warmest clothes, his toiletries, his phone, phone charger, one of his favourite books,  an old stuffed bee that his brother had given him when he was younger,  a few odd bits of change,  and a small wooden compass that his uncle Rudy had handmade for him.   
  
He spotted a small bag of dog food sitting in the corner of his room. It wasn't opened so it wouldn't spill out into his backpack.  Perfect.  He grabbed it and stuffed it into his bag.   
  
"Time to go boy." 

Redbeard stood up and shuffled over to Sherlock. He butted his head against Sherlock's hand and whined.

Sherlock smiled and patted Redbeard gently. "Go fetch your leash boy.  Let's see if your training has paid off."

Redbeard woofed softly and trotted downstairs to grab his leash. He brought it back up to Sherlock, his tail wagging a mile a minute.

Sherlock grinned and hooked the leash onto Redbeard's collar. "Let's go boy. Let's get as far away from this madhouse as possible. "

Redbeard woofed happily and led Sherlock out of the house undetected.

* * *

 

Mycroft and his mum were still arguing loudly and his father was nowhere to be seen.  He managed to exit the house without anyone noticing.  
  
Then he began walking as far and as fast as his legs could take him. Redbeard loped along beside him, tongue hanging out and tail wagging madly. No one noticed they'd gone.

Sherlock glanced up at the sky worriedly. It looked like it was going to rain.  They needed to find shelter. Where though? Perhaps they could knock on uncle Rudy's door? No. Too risky.  His uncle would ring his parents. 

Redbeard sniffed around and barked. He trotted back to Sherlock, a damp leaf stuck to his nose.

Sherlock laughed softly and plucked the leaf from the dog's nose. "Come on you silly dog, we have to find shelter."

Redbeard loped ahead, nose to the ground. A shed came into view and Redbeard barked to alert Sherlock to its presence.

Sherlock gratefully patted Redbeard and they both entered the shed  just in time for the heavens to open. The shed was completely deserted and even had an old mattress on the floor for them to sleep on. 

Sherlock wondered to himself if he had made the right decision. Perhaps he'd been too hasty to run away. Was he being a coward, running away from his problems?   
  
Night fell and he felt both terribly homesick and hungry. Redbeard curled up next to Sherlock on the mattress and nuzzled his hand. He whined softly and stared up at the boy with sad eyes.

"It's OK boy. We'll work something out. I'll find us a proper shelter and I'll seek supplies to help us survive. I have food for you.  We're on a rationed supply though. Think you can wait till morning?" 

Redbeard whined and licked Sherlock's hand.

"I'm sorry but I don't want your food running out too soon, not until I've sourced more for you."

Redbeard huffed and laid his head on Sherlock's lap.

"Shh boy.  Sleep. We'll work something out tomorrow." Sherlock whispered,  closing his eyes in an attempt to fall into a slumber. 

* * *

 

If Sherlock was feeling homesick, then his home was definitely in a frenzy. Sherlock and Redbeard were gone, nowhere to be found. Some of Sherlock's things were missing, Redbeard's leash was gone, and some dog food was missing as well.

"Where could he have gone?" Violet sobbed. "Why would he run away?"

"He can't have gone far. He's probably gone to Uncle Rudy's place. "Mycroft tried to reassure his mother. 

"Rudy would have called if Sherlock had gone to him." Violet sniffled and wiped her nose on a tissue.

Mycroft frowned. "Where does he go when he feels sad?" 

"I... I don't know. He just goes for walks and usually comes back before dinner. He's never packed a bag before. What if he's running away?"

"Sherlock,  running away?" Mycroft shook his head in disbelief. "He isn't the type. Come now mummy. The boy is too soft to run away for long. He took Redbeard with him, yes? He's probably walking home as we speak."

"I sure hope you're right." Violet sighed and stared longingly out the window. "I wish I hadn't been so blind. Maybe he wouldn't have run off."

"It's everyone's fault. I haven't been there for him. None of us have."

Violet stared down at her belly and placed a hand upon it. "Why does he hate the baby so much?" she asked. 

"Because he suddenly isn't the baby himself I suppose. He feels as though he's being replaced. "

"But I could never replace him." Violet dabbed at her eyes as fresh tears threatened to spill. "He's my baby boy."

Mycroft moved to comfort his mother. "I know mummy. I know how special Sherlock is to you. We'll find him,  I promise. We have to."

Violet hugged Mycroft tight. "It's so stupid that we can't fill out a missing person's report until Sherlock's been gone for 48 hours. What if he's dead by then?"

"Don't say that mummy. He's going to be fine. He's probably found shelter. It's raining after all. Come on. I'll make you a cup of tea. I'll find father too. I believe he has a lot to answer for. "

"Yes. He certainly does. Could you brew me a cup of that royal strawberry tea? It's my favourite."

"Thanks, Mikey." She reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. "I love you."

"I love you too mummy." 

"Go make me that cuppa." She patted his cheek and gently pushed him toward the kitchen. "Fetch your father when you're done."

"Perhaps you should chat with father first? You may want a private moment together to help work things out. "

"No. I need to calm down. I don't want another... you know." She rubbed her stomach and frowned.

Mycroft swallowed thickly. "I don't want that either mummy.  Go rest your feet up. I'll make you that cuppa."

"Thanks, love." She propped her feet on the footrest and leant back in the chair. She stared out the window, looking for any sign of Sherlock. "Oh my dear, dear Sherlock," she sighed despondently. "Wherever you are, I hope you're alright."

 

 

 


	21. Into The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a surprisingly good Monday. Good Mondays are rare for me and they're re-playing Sherlock on TV right now, so I'm in a great mood. I decided I'd update this fic again to celebrate.
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> -Acemindpalace

Mycroft bustled about,  making himself busy so that he didn't have to think about his baby brother out there in the dark and the pouring rain. 

Violet was chewing on her thumbnail when there was a small knock on the door.

"Is that you with the tea, Mikey?" She called out.

"No love,  it's Nate. May I come in?" 

Violet swallowed, her body tensing slightly. She didn't want another shouting match, but she couldn't hide from her husband forever.

"Sure," she said quietly. "Come in."

Nate crept in cautiously. "Hi...I...can we talk? No shouting,  just talking. "

"No shouting," Violet repeated. She placed her hands protectively over her belly. "Sit." She gestured to the other chair across the room.

"Vi I- " Nate tried to speak as he sat down but his words weren't coming out right. 

"What do you want to say, Nate?" Violet asked a bit defensively. "That you're sorry you gambled away all our savings? That's not going to fix things. We have bills to pay, mouths to feed, and a baby on the way."

"I know,  but an apology is a start,  isn't it?"

"I suppose," she grumbled.

"Please love, don't shut me out. I made mistakes.  I messed up, but don't shut me out."

"I'm not shutting you out," she murmured. "I just can't believe you've been gambling and hiding it from us. From /me/. If we were in such financial trouble, why would you keep that from me?"

"I didn't want to stress you out. I didn't want to risk...you losing our baby." 

"I think finding out this way put a lot more stress on me than you telling me earlier."

"I was going to fix things,  I promise. I...that's all I wanted to do in the first place. I gambled because I wanted to gain money to dig us out of money problems."

"If we were in so much financial trouble, why did you agree to give me another baby? We obviously can't afford another mouth to feed. And nappies and all his shots are going to be so expensive."

"I wanted to make you happy." Nate whispered. "We'll cancel our private doctor. The NHS will cover us health wise from now on. We'll be OK."

"It's a start." Violet sighed sadly. "I wish you'd told me sooner. I could have gone back to work. I could have been bringing in more money. I can't now because of the baby."

Nate reached out and placed a hand over his wife's.  "Remember when you found out you were pregnant with Mycroft?  We were in a lot of financial trouble then. I told you we would be OK and we were. I'm telling you now we're going to be OK and we will be." 

Violet squeezed his hand softly. "OK," she whispered. "OK."

"Forgive me Vi." Nate whispered. "Please forgive me. "

"Of course I forgive you," she whispered. "Of course I do."

"Forgive me Vi." Nate whispered. "Please forgive me. "

'Of course I forgive you,' she whispered. 'Of course I do.'

"Thank you."Nate choked out. "Thank you Vi. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've messed everything up." 

"But you can still fix it," she murmured.

"Of course I will,  I promise." 

"Good. You'd better. Now get over here and hug me. I need some security right now, and being in your arms has always been the safest place for me."

Nate immediately moved to envelop Vi. "I love you. I'm sorry. I've got you."

Violet wrapped her arms around Nate's shoulders and squeezed tight. "I know," she whispered. "I love you too. No matter what, I'll always love you."

There was a soft knock at the door,  interrupting them.   
  
Nate sniffled and looked up. It was Mycroft. He attempted a small smile. "Hi son." 

"Hello," Mycroft said professionally. "Glad to see you two have made up. I brought you your tea, Mummy."

"Mycroft..." Nate swallowed thickly. " Sit down please. I believe I have a lot of apologising and explaining to do."

"I'm not in the mood to hear it right now," Mycroft said. He gave his mum the cup of tea and turned to look at his father. "Right now, I'm more worried about Sherlock's safety."

Nate frowned."Sherlock's gone?"

"You didn't know?!" Mycroft screamed. "Yes! Your son is gone! He ran away with Redbeard!"

Nate jumped to his feet and scowled. "How was I supposed to know?! Your mother didn't say anything!"

"Don't blame Mummy! She's not at fault here! She isn't the one who gambled away all our savings! She isn't the one who sent us into crippling debt!"

"I didn't have any other options!"

"No! Getting a loan or claiming bankruptcy should have been your first option! Not gambling! Never gambling!"

"If I did that they'd take the baby from us!" Nate screamed. "As soon as the baby is born they would take her.  They'd see your mother and I as unfit parents. " 

Mycroft didn't know what to say to that. He didn't want his baby sibling to be taken away. He didn't want to see his mum so depressed again.

"Fine," he growled. "Just fix this. I'm done talking to you." He left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Nate immediately chased after Mycroft. "Wait! I know you hate me right now but won't we be able to cover more ground if I look for Sherlock too?"

"And leave Mum home alone?" Mycroft countered. "She's emotionally unstable right now. I don't want to leave her alone. She needs someone here for her."

"She's emotionally unstable because Sherlock is gone. We need to find him to put her mind to rest." Nate argued. 

Mycroft huffed through his nose. "Fine. Give her the landline in case Sherlock calls. I'll meet you outside."

Nate returned to his wife. He smiled at her softly. "I'm going out to search for Sherlock. I'm a call away if you need me. Stay close to the landline."

"Alright, love. I'll call if he comes home. Be safe."

"You too. Please call me if you need anything,  anything at all."   
  
Nate pressed a kiss to his wife's head and left,  walking into the stormy night to try and find his youngest boy. 

Violet clutched the cup of tea to her breast and watched her eldest son and her husband traipse out into the storm.

"Lord," she whispered. "Please, please watch over my Sherlock. Please keep him safe in this storm and please bring him and Redbeard home in one piece. I just want my baby boy back. Please keep him safe. Please."

* * *

 

"Where should we look?" Nate asked. "Where would Sherlock go? He's never done this before."

"I don't know," Mycroft said honestly. "Maybe he ran in the direction of Uncle Rudy's? Let's start there."

"I'll drive. The weather is awful. We can't walk. We'll cover more ground with the car too."

"Alright. Come on. Let's get back home before a branch snaps and falls on us."

Nate nodded and turned to walk in the direction of home. "We're not too far away. Shouldn't take long."

A bright flash of lightning lit up the sky above them. Mycroft yelped and ran toward home.

"Sherlock hates thunder storms. He'll have found some kind of shelter if possible." 

"I know!" Mycroft called over his shoulder. He was still running. "Takes after me!"

Nate sped up his pace to keep up with Mycroft. "This way!" He called. "I parked the car over here."

Mycroft ran in the direction his dad had indicated. The car appeared in front of him like a salvation. He ran to the passenger side and opened the door, climbing inside and out of the storm.

Nate climbed inside of the driver’s side and pushed the keys into the ignition. The car leapt to life with a roar. 

Mycroft turned the heat on full blast so the windows wouldn't fog up. And so they'd be warm. He was freezing after being out in the rain.

"OK. Let's get to Uncle Rudy's."

Nate nodded and began to drive in the direction of his brother's house. "He'll be OK,  our Sherlock. He's a good boy. He'll have headed to somewhere safe."

Mycroft nodded. Sherlock wouldn't want to be out in the storm. He hated thunder and lightning. He'd have found an abandoned shed or he'd have snuck into Uncle Rudy's place. Mycroft only hoped Sherlock hadn't gotten very far before the storm broke.

 


	22. Searching For Sherlock

It took half an hour to reach Uncle Rudy's house.  Nate pulled up outside of it and sucked in a deep breath. "Please god, be here." 

"If he isn't, at least we can get Uncle Rudy in on the search," Mycroft said, trying to remain positive. "His dogs are trackers. Maybe they can find Sherlock if we provide his scent."

"Look on the back seat.  Sherlock sometimes leaves his jacket in here. "

Mycroft checked. It was indeed there. "Why don't we leave it here until the storm passes? I don't want it to lose his scent."

"Good plan. Can you run ahead and alert your uncle of what's going on. I'm going to try and look on the premises for Sherlock. There's miles of land that the boy could have taken shelter in."

"Sure." Mycroft dashed out of the car and ran to his uncle's front door. He knocked loudly, not giving up until Rudy answered.

Nate climbed out of the car. He looked up at the sky. It was still storming,  the clouds grey and angry.    
  
"Oh Sherlock, where are you on this wretched night?" He muttered to himself as he stalked off into the blackness.  

Mycroft was still pounding on the door. Soon dogs began barking and loud footsteps could be heard descending the steps.

* * *

 

 

'Dammit!' a voice cried. 'Calm down! I'm coming!'

Uncle Rudy answered the door,  fully prepared to shout at whoever had awoken him from his slumber. However, when he saw his eldest nephew standing there,  drenched to the bone,  he immediately softened and beckoned the boy to come in.

Mycroft entered the house and petted Rudy's tracking dog, Angel.

"Sorry to disturb you, Uncle Rudy," he apologised. "But there's a family emergency. Sherlock’s run away from home and we need help finding him."

"He's run away?" Rudy frowned. "That doesn't sound like him."

"He thinks he's being replaced because Mummy and Father are having another baby," Mycroft explained.

"I've heard. Your father came to me for advice. I guess he didn't follow it."

"Advice? Advice about what?"

"I'm not sure it's my place to say. I don't know how much you know. "

"I know he gambled away all our savings and we're in crippling debt," Mycroft growled. 

"It's not as simple as that." Rudy said softly. "It goes a lot deeper." 

"How deep?"

"Very deep. Perhaps you ought to sit down.  I'll tell you everything,  then we'll look for Sherlock. The dogs will be no use in this storm." 

Mycroft nodded and sat down on the sofa. Angel sat down by his feet.

"OK," Mycroft said softly. "Tell me what's going on."

"Your father hasn't been very...um... Mentally wise he's been quite poorly." Rudy said honestly. "He's been struggling a lot with life in general."

"Struggling how?" Mycroft asked. "Has he been drinking again? He's been going to meetings every week. Mum's been to some of the meetings. She's said he's been doing so well. Did he fall off the wagon?"

"You could say that,  yes. He's been trying to get better. He's been going to meetings and therapy but nothing seems to be helping him. I suppose old habits die hard. He's always had a problem with his drink and with gambling." 

Mycroft blinked. "He has gambling problems?"

"Yes." Rudy frowned. "I thought you knew about it?"

"No. Mummy never mention his gambling problem. Just the alcoholism. He... he gambled away all our savings to try and get us some more money. He said we've been in financial trouble for a while. But he has a steady job. What's going on?"

"His...His company is starting to fall through. He's not in a good financial place right now."

"The company is failing?" Mycroft asked. "Why hasn't he told us?"

"Because he feels like he's failing you as a father. He's barely holding it together. Please be gentle with him. "

Mycroft slumped down into the sofa, his eyes wide and unblinking. "How long have you known?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"About his drinking and gambling? Since he was a teenager. About his company failing and his mental breakdown? A good year now." 

"A year?" Mycroft swallowed thickly, his hands grasping the edge of the sofa cushion tight. "A god damn year? That's how long he's been hiding this from us? Why didn't he say anything?"

"He's barely holding it together. I doubt he's in the right state of mind to tell you."

"He should have told us. We could have helped. Mummy could have gotten a job, I could have postponed going to uni. He shouldn't have added another baby into the equation. Now we're fucked for sure."

"It's OK. I'm helping him out. There's no need to interrupt your education or your mother's chance of raising another child."

Mycroft glared up at his uncle. "How are you helping him? And you mentioned you gave him some advice that he didn't follow. What was it?"

"I'm lending him some money. I can afford it, so it's not a problem. I told him that he needs to seek professional help about his financial situation and a doctor about his mental health."

"And he gambled away all your money," Mycroft growled. "How can you still be willing to help him?"

"He's my brother. You have to help family. Besides he can't have gambled away my money. I pay for the bills now,  and I order the monthly shop.  He doesn't come anywhere near the money I'm lending him. I'm not that stupid. "

"You've been paying for the bills?"

Rudy nodded in confirmation. "I had to. Otherwise there would be no roof over any of your heads." 

Mycroft slumped down into the couch again. "Jesus," he breathed out. "I had no idea." He looked up at his uncle and smiled softly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Rudy smiled softly. "Now,  this doesn't mean you should give your dad a hard time. That will only make things so much worse." 

"Yeah. I know." There was a knock at the door and it soon opened.

"It's like a monsoon out there!" Nate announced.

Rudy looked up at his brother and tsked. "You're not even wrapped up properly. You'll catch a cold."

Nate just shrugged and took off his jacket. "Did Myc tell you why we're here?"

"Yes," Rudy bit his lip. "Sherlock's run away? Our best bet is to wait for the storm to calm then Angel can track him down."

Nate nodded and shook the rain water out of his hair. "Is it just Angel now? What happened to Max?"

"He's currently sulking in his bed because he's being forced to wear the cone of shame."

"Uh oh. What happened?"

"He had a nasty argument with some barbed wire so he had to have some stitches."

Nate winced. "Ouch. Everything okay?"

"Does this even matter? Sherlock is more important right now."

"Right! Yes! Of course! Sorry. Got a bit off track." Nate stepped out of his soggy shoes and went into the sitting room. "So I searched a bit of your land but couldn't find him. He's got his dog with him, so they've probably found somewhere dry to sleep for the night. Think he might be in the old hunting cabin a few kilometres into your property?"

"It's possible.  That is if he came this way.  What makes you think he'll be anywhere near here?"

"It's familiar. He wouldn't want to run somewhere unfamiliar. Especially during a storm this bad." There was a bright flash of lightning and a deafening boom of thunder.

"Point made," Mycroft joked.

"Yet from what you've told me Sherlock was very upset. What if he's ventured further than my land? "

"I... I don't think he would. He's scared and upset, yes, but I honestly think he would be smart and stay close just in case something went wrong. He's probably waiting out the storm before he runs toward the city and starts living on the streets. I'm not sure how well that will work, given he's got Redbeard with him."

"We'll find him. I promise. We just have to let this storm die out. It's not safe out there right now. "

"Dad, you should probably call Mummy. Let her know we're OK," Mycroft said. "I need to go dry off before I catch cold. Or worse, pneumonia."

"Go dry off. I've already lost one child. I don't want to lose you too." Nate swallowed thickly. He wasn't talking about Sherlock. 

Mycroft swallowed and nodded. He knew what his father meant. He just wasn't sure if his dad knew that he'd understood what had happened all those years ago.

Nate was completely soaked to the skin. He felt cold but he doubted that it was solely down to how wet he was.  He couldn't help but think of the child he lost before Sherlock.He felt like he had stepped back in time. He was losing another child and he was powerless to stop it. 

Rudy could see his brother's torment. He stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Nate, go get dried off. There's nothing we can do right now. As soon as the storm lets up we'll go out with Angel. She's a great tracker. If any dog can find Sherlock, it's her."

"You honestly think we'll find him?" Nate whispered. "I've a feeling that I've really screwed up this time. If he's gone for good...it's my fault." 

Rudy squeezed his shoulder. "Yes. We'll find him. We'll bring him home safe."

"Promise?" Nate choked out. "Promise me he'll be OK."

"I can't make a promise I can't keep. Because you'll blame me if he doesn't come home. All I can promise is that we won't give up until we find him."

Nate swallowed thickly. "I've got to get back out there. I have to find him. He's terrified of storms. What if he hasn't found shelter?"

"Hey. Stop." Rudy grabbed Nate's arm before he could run off. "Sherlock’s a smart boy. If he didn't find shelter I bet he made some himself. He'll be okay. He's a Holmes."

"That's the thing. Rudy,  Holmes men aren't survivors. We're weak. We break. I don't want him to break.He's too young to be out there all on his own!"

"Holmes men are not weak, Nate. I'm certainly not. You never were before the company started going under. Da wasn't, and neither are his grandsons. Sherlock will be fine. He's got his wits about him. He's well read. He'll know what to do to stay warm and dry."

"I should still be out there trying to find him. It's my fault he ran away."

"I messed up Rudy. I failed both my boys. I'm a shit father."

"You've done no such thing. What on earth makes you think that? Because the company's gone under? That has nothing to do with your capabilities as a father."

"Because I spent all of savings on gambling! I gambled away both my boys' futures." 

"I know that, Nate. Just come inside and sit down and let's talk about this. Please."

"You're not listening to me,  are you?! I have to find him. I can't just mill about waiting for the storm to settle." 

Rudy sighed and nodded. "Okay. Okay. I understand. But if you're going back out there, put on some proper gear. Boots, a rain jacket, a hat. And don't forget a torch. Here you go. The goggles should also help keep the rain out of your eyes. And dry socks so you won't have cold feet."

"Thanks, " Nate whispered gratefully. He took the clothes and gestured for his brother and son to look away as he changed into them.   
  
He turned to Mycroft a moment later.  "I expect you to stay with your uncle until it's safe to venture outside. Got it?"

Mycroft, who had just thrown his clothes into Rudy's dryer and had put on a warm dressing gown, nodded at his dad.

"OK," he said softly. "Go out and look for Sherlock."

"Bring Angel with ya,'"Rudy said. "She might not be able to track much in the storm, but she'll be nice company. And if anything happens to you out there, she'll come running back home and will take us to you."

"Okay." Nate smiled fondly down at the dog and gave her a good scratch behind the ears. "Can you call Vi? I just...I can't face her right now."

"Of course. I'll let her know what's up. Now go. We'll wait here for ya."

"Thank you." Nate whispered gratefully. "Come on Angel,  let's go girl."

She trotted alongside him, her tail wagging happily. Nate turned and gave his brother and son one last smile before he ran out into the storm, Angel at his heels.

 


	23. Stormy Illusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanna run away  
> Never say goodbye  
> I wanna know the truth  
> Instead of wondering why  
> I wanna know the answers  
> No more lies  
> I wanna shut the door  
> And open up my mind
> 
> (Linkin Park lyrics)

"I hope he's not being an idiot by going out in this storm," Mycroft said when his dad disappeared amongst the trees. "My dad isn't suicidal... is he?" He looked up at his uncle, his eyes pleading for him to say no.

"I...I don't think so. I mean ..He used to be. Not anymore though. He's pulled through.  He's stronger and older."

Mycroft sighed sadly and loomed down at his bare feet.

"Are you entirely sure?" he asked quietly. "He's started gambling again. And you claimed he'd had that under control. What's to say his suicidal tendencies haven't begun to rise after everything that's been going on?"

Rudy swallowed thickly. "No. I refuse to think the worst of him. I want to give him tge benefit of the doubt." 

Mycroft wanted to as well, but he found he couldn't. If his father was indeed falling apart at the seams, then he really shouldn't be out on his own.

"You should call my mummy," he mumbled. "She's probably worried sick. I'm gonna go lie down. I'm exhausted. Wake me when my dad comes back, OK?"

Rudy nodded. "Of course. Go to sleep. You're as pale as a sheet of paper." 

Mycroft swallowed and nodded. He shuffled off to the guest room where he and Sherlock would sleep whenever they stayed at Rudy's place. He crawled into one of the beds and wrapped the covers around him until he was cocooned in a tight ball. He couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock, all alone in a massive storm. And his dad, who had tried everything in his power to save them but had only made things worse. He was still angry about the gambling, but his worry for his dad's and Sherlock's safeties far outweighed his anger. He fell asleep a few minutes later, his dreams filled with rain and lightning and Sherlock.

* * *

 

The wind howled through the night like a screaming murder victim. The lighting flashed in the sky and the thunder rumbled endlessly. The rain didn't cease, it only worsened as the hours passed.  
  
Nate had come across no sign of Sherlock, but he wasn't prepared to give up, not yet, not ever. Angel was still trotting along beside him.  She didn't seem bothered by the storm.    
  
By this point the sky was starting to get light.  Nate was soaking wet and frozen to the bone. For now he ignored how uncomfortable he was feeling and ploughed on,  vowing to himself that he would find his boy safe and sound.

////

Mycroft woke the following morning to the smell of bacon and the sound of rain pattering against the window. The storm was finally beginning to let up. Thank god. He got out of bed and thrust on the clean clothes Rudy had left him in the night. He made his way to the kitchen, silently asking that his dad and Sherlock had returned.

Rudy looked up at the sound of footsteps. "Ah, you're awake. Good. I figured you'd want some breakfast before we go out to search for Sherlock and your father."

"My dad hasn't come back?" Mycroft asked, his stomach dropping. "Angel hasn't come to get you?"

Rudy shook his head. "Don't worry. If something bad happened Angel would have come back home.  "

"OK," Mycroft whispered. He shuffled over to the table and sat down. Rudy put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. "I'm not all that hungry," he mumbled.

"Eat," Rudy said softly. "You'll need food to sustain yourself during the search."

"Food will just make me ill," Mycroft muttered.

"Not eating will make you iller. Eat." Rudy narrowed his eyes,  scowling at Mycroft. 

Mycroft stared down at the egg, it's yellow yolk staring up at him. "I can't," he whispered. "I just can't."

"I know it's hard. You're worried about them, but think about how much worse you'd make it if you faint from lack of sustenance. Please eat."

"You don't understand," Mycroft whispered. "I  _can't_  eat."

Rudy raised a concerned eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"I... I'm not sure I can tell you." Mycroft pushed the plate of food away. "I just can't eat."

"I've seen this before." Rudy said softly. "I've seen my own brother slowly break,  all because he didn't tell anyone what was going on with him. He's only just holding the scattered pieces of himself together. I don't want the same thing to happen to you.  Please,  tell me. You can trust me."

"I..."Mycroft looked down at his hands in his lap. "I just don't eat. And when I do, I don't eat a lot. I'm trying to lose weight. I'm tired of being fat."

Rudy nodded in understanding. "I'm not going to force you to eat but I think that you should. I'm not going to tell you that you aren't fat because I doubt you'll believe me. I do however want to warn you that this is not a path you want to go down. It'll end up damaging both you and your family. You could end up in hospital,  maybe even die. I can guarantee that your mum and dad won't stay together after that. Your mum will be heartbroken, and your dad will probably act on his suicidal thoughts." 

Mycroft's bottom lip trembled. He knew what he was doing wasn't healthy, but he didn't want to die and cause his parents to split up. He loved his parents, even if his dad did some stupid things sometimes. He couldn't lose them. He couldn't be responsible for their marriage ending. He was sobbing before he could stop himself. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

Rudy leaned over to comfort his nephew as best he could. "Look,  I'm no good with emotions. I'm afraid I'm no good at comforting people. You need to stop this, whatever this is,  for everyone's sake. You're fine the way you are. No one expects you to change. Eat,  get dressed, and we'll go find Sherlock and your dad. Please Mycroft. You used to love your food."

"That's the problem!" Mycroft cried. "I love food too much! I'm not healthy! I'm fat and unfit and I'm tired of getting so out of breath simply by walking up a set of stairs!"

"Fine.  If that's how you feel, you should find a way of building up your stamina. You could go to a gym or take up a hobby like horse riding. Not eating is only going to make things worse for you." 

Mycroft sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Horse riding?" He whispered. "I do like horses."

"I have a horse. She's a bit temperamental but once you get to know her she's a great ride. I tell you what, if you eat your breakfast I'll let you ride her."

Mycroft's whole demeanour brightened. "Really?!"

"Really." Rudy grinned at his nephew. "Eat?  Please? "

"OK." Mycroft pulled the plate back toward him and slowly began eating.

"Good boy." Rudy praised softly. "I'll let you ride her once we've found your brother and dad."

"Hey!" Mycroft protested. "That wasn't what you promised!"

Mycroft scowled but continued eating.

"Don't scowl at me. Could you honestly say you'd feel comfortable if you were out enjoying yourself whilst Sherlock and your dad are..."

Mycroft slammed his fork down on the table, making the plate jump.

"Of course I wouldn't!" He snapped. "I hate that this has happened! I feel partially at fault and I hate myself for letting my dad run out in a fucking thunder and lightning storm!"

"There was nothing you could have done to stop him. Your dad is a strong willed individual." 

"Guess that's where Sherlock and I get it from," Myc mumbled.

"Yep. You're both stubborn and strong willed." 

"Tell me something I don't know," Mycroft grumbled. He turned back to the plate of food and poked it with his fork. "Is that why father hid his troubles from us?"

"I don't think he wanted your mother to see his problems. Not when he swore to her that he was completely better." 

"Then he shouldn't have lied." Mycroft stared at the plate in front of him. "He shouldn't have let it get this bad."

"Do you think this is something he can control?" Rudy shook his head. "Because it isn't, not at all."

"I know it's not. Mental illness can be passed down." He looked up at his uncle with teary eyes. "I understand how his mind works."

"I know,  which is why I'm begging you to go easy on your dad. Please. He needs understanding right now. Blocking him out,  or yelling at him are bound to make him fall further."

"I know." Mycroft sighed and pushed his plate of food away. He stood up and pulled down his shirt to hide his stomach. "Come on. Let's go. I don't want to sit here anymore."

"OK. Thank you for trying though. I realise asking you to eat was a big deal for you. "

"Three bites was enough," Mycroft mumbled. He cleared his throat and straightened up. "I need some rain boots and a coat please. Then we really should be going."

Rudy nodded. "Upstairs in the second spare room. Meet me down here in a bit. "

Mycroft stood, stormed up the stairs, entered the spare bedroom and shoved his feet into the waterproof boots. He hurried back downstairs to meet his uncle, feeling to apprehensive to wait around much longer to search for his father and brother. 

"Easy, " Rudy said sternly. " You need to keep a calm head on your shoulders, OK?"

"What do you mean calm? I am calm. I'm absolutely calm."

"Of course you are." Rudy sighed and rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's go."

Mycroft followed Rudy and the dog out into the woods. His cone had been taken off so he could walk about without getting stuck on branches or whatnot. His nose was pressed to the ground, sniffing out Angel or Mr Holmes or Sherlock.

"I hope you were right about Sherlock. I hope he came here to shelter,  if not he could be far away by now. "

"I hope so too," Mycroft murmured. "I hope so too."

"Is that your father?" Rudy pointed towards a figure in the distance. His tracker dog barked in confirmation. Angel lifted her head when she heard Max bark. She barked in return and alerted her human to their presence.

"Myc...hold back a minute.  Something doesn't seem right with your dad. See how he's walking?"

Mycroft stopped and stared at his dad. "What's wrong?" He whispered.

"I don't know. He's limping. Perhaps he's hurt." 

"Dad!" Mycroft yelled. "Dad! Over here!"

"He can't hear you. We're too far away. Let's just get there as quickly as possible. It's probably nothing but better safe than sorry." 

Mycroft nodded and they made their way down to his dad.

"Dad!" He yelled when they were closer.

"Myc?!" Nate cried out. "Help...I need help." 

Nate had fallen down a deep ditch. His head was bleeding and there was a deep gash running over his left leg.  
  
"I thought I saw him." He choked out. "I thought I saw Sherlock." 

"You saw Sherlock?!' Mycroft stopped just shy of the ditch and stepped back. "Jesus Christ! What happened?!"

"I fell." Nate choked out. "I was running, I was trying to catch up with him,  but I fell and he's gone! "

"Rudy! Help!" Mycroft cried. "Dad's in a ditch!"

Rudy ran to the ditch,  a rope hauled over his shoulder. "Hang on!  Can you do that Nate? Just hang on."

"I'm trying!" Nate snapped. "Just hurry!"

Rudy tossed the rope down to his brother. "Grab hold of it. I'll pull you up."

Nate grabbed the rope and wrapped part of it around his waist. "OK! Pull me up! And be careful!"

"I'm always carefull with you." Rudy murmured,  pulling his brother up gently. Nate grunted in pain and gripped the rope tight. His cut leg scraped against the wall of the ditch and he cried out."Easy! " Rudy tugged his brother out of the ditch. "Lie there for a bit. Catch your breath."

Nate groaned and lay back, panting. "I... I think I cut my leg on a tree root, he gasped out. "Does it look bad?"

"Quite bad, yeh." Rudy hissed softly. "You should have been more careful."

"I wasn't looking where I was going. I thought I saw Sherlock."

"I know.  Rudy sighed softly. "Let's get you up, yeh? Then you can show us where you think Sherlock went.”

"OK." Nate cried out as Rudy helped him stand. He leant against him for support. "I... I saw him g-go that way.' He pointed to the thicket of trees just ahead of the ditch.

"Mycroft,  think you can go ahead and look?" Rudy asked. "Your father is too badly injured to move very fast."

"Yeah. Sure. Come on, Angel." He and the dog ran ahead to search the trees.

 


	24. Falling Apart

Sherlock could see his brother approaching, so he did the only thing that came natural; he ran.

Mycroft saw a blur moving through the trees. A flash of red was with it. Redbeard.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft screamed. "Sherlock! Come back! Please!"

Sherlock didn't stop running. He didn't want to go back home. He couldn't face his parents, or his brother for that matter. 

"Running away won't solve anything! It will only make things worse! If anything happens to you... our family won't be happy! Mummy and Dad might split up!"

"Happy?!" Sherlock exclaimed, not faltering his pace.  He could see his brother slowing down anyway.  "Since when has our family been happy?!"

"We... we were! Be-before Dad's company star... started failing! Oh god!" Mycroft collapsed on the ground, his chest heaving. "I can't fucking breathe!"

Sherlock took the opportunity to run out of sight, not bothering to look back at his fallen brother.

"SHERLOCK!" Mycroft screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Sherlock!" Nate screamed out after his son,  trying to run after him,  but with his injuries it was impossible.

It was too late. Sherlock was too far away and not even Angel could catch up to him. She gave up the chase and returned to Mycroft who was still on the ground, trying his hardest not to sob.

Nate looked at his brother in despair. "What do we do? Sherlock's gone and Mycroft is distraught."

"We should get the police involved. A runaway minor isn't safe out on the streets. We get as many people looking for him as we can."

"Good idea. Let's get Myc and the dogs inside first. I should probably do something about my injuries too."

"You really should go to hospital before that leg becomes infected."

"No. No hospitals. They'll question how I got the injury. Haven't you got a medical kit?"

"Back home, yeah. You really should go to hospital. You don't have to say you were chasing after your son. Just say you were walking in the woods and weren't watching where you were going."

"Going to hospital will only waste time." 

"No it won't. You can still call the police from the hospital. Now I'm taking you and that's that. End of discussion."

"Mycroft's coming too then." Nate pointed to his son. "I want a doctor to check him over."

"Fine. Might actually do the boy some good. Come on." They made their way over to where Mycroft was lying on the ground. Angel was licking his face, trying to comfort him.

"Myc," Nate called softly. "Please get up. We're going to hospital." 

"I tried, Dad!" Mycroft sobbed. "I tried! But I lost him! I'm sorry!"

"I know son." Nate whispered. "It's not your fault. We'll find him. I'm going call the police,  but we both need to see a doctor.  "

'I tried,' Mycroft whispered again. "I'm sorry. But I'm too fat. I couldn't keep up."

"Sherlock is a fast runner, always has been. It's not your fault you couldn't keep up. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"No! It's my fault! I'm too fat to do anything!"

"Myc," Nate choked out, tone urgent. "You have to be a brave boy now, please. I need you." 

Mycroft sucked in a deep breath and nodded. His dad was right. Now was not the time to act like a child. He was an adult now, so he should act like it. He pushed himself off the ground and dusted off his pants. He squared his jaw and lifted his chin, steeling himself.

"Alright. Let's go."

Nate reached out and grabbed his son's shoulder for support, gripping Rudy with the other hand. "Let's hurry."

They made their way back to Rudy's house as quickly as they could. The dogs trotted along ahead of them, leading the way.

Nate's steps were beginning to stagger as they approached the house,  his vision blurring. "Hurry...I..."

Rudy hauled him into his arms and carried him out to the truck. He sat him in the cab amd strapped him in.

"Myc! Put Max's cone back on and get the dogs in the house! And be quick! Your dad doesn't look too good!"

Nate groaned as his son and brother faded from him, his world collapsing into darkness. 

* * *

 

The next thing he knew he was in hospital, hooked up to machines and wires. He groaned and tried to move but the pain that shot down his leg prevented him from moving.

 Nate flailed in the bed pathetically, pain coursing through him. "Myc?! Rudy?!" 

A nurse rushed in to calm him down. !Sir, stop! You'll tear your stitches!"

Nate locked eyes with the nurse, panicked. "Where are my son and brother?"

"In the canteen. Your wife is also here. She popped off to the loo."

"Vi's here?" Nate asked softly. "What about my younger son?  Has the police been notified about his disappearance?"

"They have yes, but no word on his return."

"Oh." Nate nodded, his expression grim. "How long until I can leave this place? I really ought to be looking for my son myself." 

"Not for a few days. You broke your fibula and there was a mild infection in the cut. The doctor wants you to stay until at least the infection is gone."

Nate exhaled loudly. "So, you mean to say, I'm stuck here?  Whilst my youngest son is out on the streets somewhere?" 

"I'm afraid so, sir. And you'll be stuck at home until your leg heals. Which will take about 4 weeks."

Nate swallowed thickly. "Right, OK. Please can you fetch my brother? I must speak to him."

"Of course. What's his name?"

"Rudy. Rudy Holmes. "

"OK. I'll be right back with your brother."

"Thank you." Nate settled back on the bed and closed his eyes. The pain medication they had him on was making him sleepy. The nurse left to get the man's brother. He'd probably be asleep when they got back to the room though.

* * *

 

Nate was snoring softly when his brother finally arrived.    
  
Rudy sighed softly and shuffled to his brother's bedside,  taking his hand and giving it a tight squeeze. "Oh brother. What are we to do with you?"

When Nate woke, his family was in his room with him. His brother, his wife and their unborn child, and his eldest son. But still no Sherlock. He frowned and turned his head to look at Rudy.

"Still no sign of him?" He asked.

Rudy grimaced and shook his head. "I'm sorry Nate. The police are looking for him. There's been a few sightings, but he hasn't been found yet."

"Do they have any idea where he's headed?"

"I don't think so. Sherlock...He's unpredictable. No one knows where he's gone."

Nate groaned and tossed his head back on the pillow. "I should be out there," he whispered. "I need to be looking for my son. I need to go!"

"You're not going anywhere." Rudy said sternly. "You need to heal."

"I need to search for my son! Let me go!" He tried to get out of bed and began pulling at the tubes and wires that he was attached to.

Rudy grabbed his brother's arms. "Calm it.  You'll hurt yourself.”

"I don't care!" Nate screamed. "Sherlock is out there because of me! Because I can't support my family! I should be dead! Everyone would be better off!"

"Have you heard yourself?" Rudy growled. "You're being ridiculous. We would be lost without you if you died." 

"Yes, you would be. Better of without me, that is." Nate growled. "My life insurance policy would give Vi enough money to pay off my debts and have some left over to start fresh. Sherlock would come home if he knew I was dead! I'm the reason he's gone! Just fucking kill me!"

Rudy snapped. He slapped his brother across the face,  stunning him into silence. "Listen,  you ungrateful fool,  shut up. Money isn't the problem here. It won't solve anything. You need to keep your shit together, for the sake of this whole family."

Nate didn't look back at his brother. He didn't rub at the pain flaring across his cheek. He barely even breathed. He closed his eyes and tried to block everything out. Everyone in the room, his emotions, his thoughts. He focused until everything was dark and quiet. Peace at last.

Rudy sighed softly. His brother was sleeping now. He looked peaceful,  but he knew it wouldn't last. As soon as he woke up again hell would rain down upon them.

Violet choked on a sob, a hand resting on her belly. "What's happening to us?" She asked no one in particular.

Rudy turned to Vi and kneeled beside her. "We're going to be OK. Nate's hit a rough patch,  that's all. When you married him,  you knew that he might relapse. He'll get better though and they'll find Sherlock. I promise."

"I hope so," she choked out. "I don't know what I'll do if Sherlock doesn't come home safe."

"He will Vi." Rudy assured her. "There's been a few sightings of him. We know he's safe. We've just got to bring him home now. "

"He'd better come home safe," Violet whispered. "Please keep him safe, Lord. Please."

Rudy pressed a kiss to her face and smiled sadly. "I'm sorry Vi. I've got to go. I’ve got to feed my dogs. They've been home alone for most of the day. They'll be going stir crazy."

"Oh. OK." She took Rudy's hand and squeezed. "I'll call you if there's any word on Sherlock. Thank you for taking care of my husband and my eldest."

"You're welcome, Vi."Rudy pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "You're family. It's my duty to look after you all." He turned to his nephew. "Look after your mother, Mycroft."

'Yes, sir,' Mycroft whispered.

Rudy stood up and gave Mycroft's shoulder a tight squeeze. "That's a good lad.  I'll be back soon."

"OK." Mycroft stood to take Rudy's place beside his dad. Violet remained on the bench by the window, the sun warming her skin.

Rudy left the room silently. He smiled politely at a nurse that had come to check up on Nate, before heading out of the hospital. 

Violet stared out the window and down at the bustling city streets below. She wondered if that's where Sherlock was now. Living on the streets. She prayed silently that Sherlock would be watched over and protected and brought home safe.

"Oh, Sherlock," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "Please come home soon, baby. We miss you. We all miss you. And we're so worried. Please come home."

 

 

 


	25. Introducing Link

Sherlock grunted and huffed as he scrambled to get something decent to eat, rummaging through the overfull bin. There's had to be something in there worthy of eating. He’d watched the restaurant for a while now. They seemed to throw half of their food away. Redbeard whined and pawed at the ground. He was hungry. He and Sherlock hadn't eaten in days.

Sherlock froze when he heard a door opening and approaching footstep. Ushering Redbeard out of sight, he slunk back into the shadows.

The back door to the restaurant Sherlock was behind opened and a waiter put some fresh bags of garbage in the bin. He glanced around, making sure no one would see, and tossed a few fresh rolls of bread down the alley.

"Enjoy," he whispered to the person he knew was there but never spoke. He went back inside the restaurant and resumed his duties.

  When the waiter retreated  Sherlock dived towards the bread and grabbed it with eager hands.  He split the rolls of bread between himself and Redbeard,  eating with vigour as he tried to cure his hunger. Redbeard gobbled up the bread Sherlock gave him. 

Sherlock looked towards the restaurant door once more, eyes hopeful. Perhaps the waiter would bring more food out if he waited long enough. 

"How could you possibly get the order wrong?" The head chef asked. "How could you get medium and medium rare confused?!"

"I'm sorry!" The waiter cried. "It was an honest mistake! I'll fix it!"

"You'd better. Or I'll have you fired!" The chef stalked off to prepare the correct meal. The waiter smirked and took the 'wrong' order out back to be thrown out. He went out back by the bins and looked around.

"Hey," he whispered. "You still here?"

Sherlock shuffled out of the darkness,  his eyes wide with apprehension.  "For me? " He whispered cautiously. 

"Yeah," the waiter said. "Did you get the bread I left?"

Sherlock nodded and smiled weakly. "Yeh...we did...Thanks."

"We?" It was then he saw the gorgeous Irish Setter with the boy. He gasped and knelt down so he was at the dog's level. "He's beautiful," he whispered.

"Thanks." Sherlock sniffled. "You're not going to tell on us, are you? "

"No. I've been in your position before. A helping hand from a stranger helped me get myself back on track. Here. I brought you something a customer returned. Didn't want to waste perfectly good food." He passed the boy the plate along woth a knife and fork. "I'll pop back later if you're still hungry."

Sherlock smiled softly at the waiter and took the plate of steaming hot food.  "Thank you.  I was beginning to think Redbeard and I were going to go hungry again." 

"Redbeard? Is that your dog's name?"

Sherlock nodded and bent down to pat the pup. "Yes, like the pirate."

"That's very cool." The waiter reached out to let Redbeard sniff his hand. "He's a very beautiful dog." Redbeard licked the man's fingers. "And so friendly."

"Yes, well, we haven't always been on the streets." 

"I figured given how nice your clothes are." The waiter turned around when his name was called. The chef was looking for him. "Sorry. I gotta go. I get off at 8 if you wanted to wait for me? You can spend the night at my place? Have a shower and do some washing and eat a proper meal."

Sherlock cocked his head sideways, his expression sceptical. "You're not going to call the police on me, are you? Because...I don't want to go home. "

"Coming, Chef!" Link hollered back. He turned back to the boy. "Sorry. I gotta go. Just wait for me, OK? I'll give you at least one decent night's sleep before you take off again. Please?"

"OK." Sherlock bit his lip,  nodding.  "I'll be here. Go. I don't want you getting in trouble because of me." 

"OK. Thanks." Link stood to leave. He smiled back at the boy before returning to work.

Sherlock relaxed and slunk back into the ally. He sat down cross legged and tucked into the meal the waiter had given him. Redbeard whined softly and pawed at his trouser leg.  Sherlock smiled and cut a piece of meat off for the hungry animal to eat. 

* * *

 

True to his word, Link got off work at 8 p.m. He slunk back into the alley and looked for the boy and his dog.

"Hey," he whispered into the darkness. "You still here?"

"Over here." Sherlock whispered, stepping out of the dark. 

Link smiled. "Good. I thought maybe you'd left. Come on. My car's over here."

Sherlock threw his rucksack over his shoulder and smiled.  "Thanks.  Come on Redbeard, we're getting out of here. "

Redbeard trotted alongside Sherlock as Link took them to his car. He held the door open for the boy and the dog. Redbeard leapt right in and settled down on the soft leather seat.

Sherlock shuffled into the car and patted Redbeard gently. "I hope I can trust you," he said to Link. "I don't usually trust people."

"You can trust me," Link said as he slid into the driver's seat. "I'm not going to kidnap you or anything if that's what you were worried about.I don't even know who you are. I'm not gonna hold a stranger up for ransom." He started the car and began driving away from the restaurant. "I don't live too far away. Normally I'd walk, but there was a chance of rain today. And I didn't want to walk back during a torrential downpour."

"I didn't want to sleep in a downpour either. It's not a lot of fun."

"I take it you've had to sleep outside in the elements before?" Link asked.

"Yes, I've been sleeping rough lately."

"Yeh, I can tell. Don't worry. You can rest under my roof tonight, if you like."

"Thanks." Sherlock smiled appreciatively. "It's really nice of you." 

"It's no problem. You looked like you needed some unbiased help. Come on in before the rain starts."

Sherlock opened the car door. They'd arrived at their destination. He grabbed Redbeard's collar, gently encouraging him out. "You'll hardly notice me. I like to keep my head down." 

"OK." Link exited the car and went to open the door. Redbeard ran about the front lawn for a minute before pissing on a tree. He loped inside after Link as soon as the door was open.

Sherlock stepped inside and looked around the little flat. Compared to the streets it looked heavenly. "It's nice. I like it." 

"Thanks. Here. This is my spare bedroom slash study." Link opened a door to reveal the room. "You can sleep in here. "

Sherlock smiled gratefully. "Thanks. Can Redbeard sleep in here too? He won't make a mess.  Promise."

"Yes. That's fine. He seems to follow your every order. You've trained him well."

"Yeh. He's a good dog.  Um...I'm going to nap now.  Is that OK?" Sherlock could feel sleep pulling at him. He hadn't slept properly in days and the bed in the small room looked inviting and warm. He stared at it with longing. 

"Sure. I'll bring you something clean to sleep in. I'll do your washing too if that's OK? "

"Are you sure? That really isn't necessary. I mean...You're being too nice. Why?"

"Because you're a kid down on his luck. And I know all too well what that feels like." Link smiled softly at the boy. "It's no trouble on my part. Really. I wanted to show you some kindness. Is that really so bad? "

"No, I'm just not used to kindness. I'm grateful, don't get me wrong. I just find it extremely odd." Sherlock shrugged off his rucksack and dumped it on the floor. 

Sherlock took the t-shirt and smiled gratefully. "Thanks.  Give me a moment to get changed.”

"Of course. I'll take any dirty laundry you have too. I'll be in the sitting room when you're ready." Link left the room and closed the door and first went to his own room to change out of his work uniform, before going into the sitting room to wait for the boy.

Sherlock shrugged his dirty clothes off and slipped into the T-shirt Link had given him. It practically drowned him.  He scooped his clothes up and shuffled out of the room. 

Link was sat on the couch. He smiled softly at the boy when he emerged. He snickered slightly at the sight of him in the massive shirt.

"Wow," he said around a snicker. "I didn't realise how big that would be. Sorry. I can maybe try and find a smaller shirt?"

"No. It's fine. At least I'll be warm tonight. Makes a pleasant change." 

"Oh. OK." Link stood and took the dirty clothes. "Will you be alright here by yourself for an hour? I know you said you were going to sleep, but I just want you to feel safe here."

"It's safer here than on the streets." Sherlock pointed out. "I'll be fine."

"OK. Very true." Link stood and grabbed his keys. "The launderette's a couple blocks away. I'll have my mobile if you need to call me for any reason. Oh. You don't have the number. Hold on." He dashed into the kitchen to grab a notepad and a pen and quickly scrawled down his number. He returned to the boy and handed him the paper. "Call if you need anything, OK?"

"OK." Sherlock nodded. "Goodnight Link."

Link nodded. "Alright. Sleep well. I'll be back in an hour or so."

 

 

 


	26. Mary Morstan

John's foot bounced throughout his class lecture. He hadn't heard from Sherlock for a week. They hadn't skyped since Christmas and Sherlock wasn't answering any of his emails or messages on Tumblr. He bit the end of his pencil and tried to concentrate on the lesson, but he couldn't. Sherlock was constantly on his mind and he missed talking to the nerdy boy much more than he'd like to admit. He was fond of him, enjoyed talking to him, enjoyed watching him talk about his shows even. Without Sherlock, he had no one to vent to about his parents or his brother or even the kids at school who thought popularity was more important than getting an education.

The bell rang, signalling school was out. John gathered his books and went to his locker. He stuffed his homework into his backpack and grabbed his phone from the top shelf. He immediately checked his emails. Nothing from Sherlock. Just notifications that a few new people had followed him. He went to his Internet browser and typed in Sherlock's URL, sending him another message.

*Hey. Haven't heard from you in a while. Wondering if everything's ok. Starting to worry a bit over here. Please let me know you're ok. Please. I miss you. ~J*

Mary, a new girl at the school, was watching John closely.  A small smile tugged at her lips. She was the type of girl that went after what she wanted. Right now she wanted John Watson.  "A dollar for your thoughts?" 

John glared at her from the corner of his eyes. He knew who Mary was. She made sure everyone knew her. She was the type of girl who thrived off attention. He stuck a cigarette between his teeth and lit it, blowing the puff of smoke in her direction.

"My thoughts aren't any concern of yours," he said scathingly. 'You wouldn't care anyway.'

Mary stared down at her feet in shame,  her cheeks flushing. "Sorry.  I know it's none of my business. "   
  
She couldn't help but feel a pang in her heart.  She only wanted to make one friend. Was that really so hard to ask?   The curly haired boy had sent her here to make friends with John Hamish Watson, but it would appear that John didn’t even like her. She quickly turned away before John could see the tears pooling in her eyes. 

All her life she’d been running, searching for someone who would perhaps accept her and her crazy, mixed up world. She had thought this time would be different,  especially with Sherlock's instructions, but clearly she was wrong.

John grumbled under his breath and blew his cigarette smoke out his nose. He flicked it away and followed the girl to the corner of the street. She was crying and trying to make it sound like she wasn't.

"Sorry," he grumbled as he stared down at his feet. "I've been stressed out lately and I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"It's fine.  You're right. I have no right to pry into your life.  I just... I'm sick of not fitting in anywhere."  

"Yeah. I know how that feels." John sighed and scraped his shoe against the pavement. "Sorry for being such a dick. I just haven't heard from a friend in a while and I'm worried about him."

"It's OK. I understand. I...I'm just gonna go." She tried to leave but the boy grabbed her arm and dragged her backwards gently. 

"No," John said softly. "Stay. Please. I... I could use someone to talk to right now. Want to go get coffee or something?"

"You sure? You don't have to be nice."

"Maybe I want to be nice?" John countered. "Please? Just one cup of coffee. And if it's awkward after that you can leave."

"One cup of coffee. I think I can live with that." She threw him a sweet smile. 

John smiled back at her. He finally released his grip on her arm and dropped his hand back down to his side.

"Come on. I know a great place not too far from here."

"Lead the way, " Mary followed John closely,  listening and nodding as he began to speak about various subjects in his life. She noted how passionately he spoke about his ‘friend’. The curly haired boy must really love John, or he wouldn't have sent her to keep an eye on him.

John chatted idly about random topics. He didn't want to get too in depth with Mary as they barely knew each other. And she probably wouldn't understand his friendship (relationship?) with Sherlock anyway and why he was worried about him.

They made it to the shop and he held the door open for her like a gentleman.Mary smiled and John and walked into the coffee shop,  her stride more confident now that John wasn't shunning her. 

John followed her to a table where they set their school bags down. "What would you like?" He asked her. "My treat for being so horrible earlier."

"What do you recommend?" She asked,  leaning in closer to him.

John blinked at her and backed up a step. "Um... the white chocolate coffee is good," he said. "Please don't do that again."

Mary frowned and pulled back slightly. She wasn't aware of how close she'd gotten to John. She felt miffed.  John was hot one minute and cold as ice the next.  "Do what?" She asked,  her voice filled with genuine confusion.  

"Sniff me or whatever it was you did. I have personal space issues. So please don't get too close when we've only just started talking."

Mary held up her hands in mock surrender.  "Alright, alright.  I promise not to breathe from now on." 

"That wasn't what I meant. I meant don't lean in and sniff me or whatever it was you did. It was weird."

"I was being sarcastic doofus.  Stop being so uptight. You have shit going down in your life,  and I get that,  you know? I have a truckload of shit going on right now,  so don't pretend like you're the only person that has problems."

"Oh. Sorry." John shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at his feet.

"I'm sorry too." Mary said softly. "It's been a long day. A long life, if I’m being honest."                          

"Yeah. Tell me about it," John grumbled. He cleared his throat and looked up at Mary. "So... coffee? Anything you prefer? No allergies or lactose intolerance or anything?"

"No." She smiled grimly. "No allergies.  I'm not too fussed." 

"OK. Good. I'll go get our coffees then."

"Go on then.  Get take away though.  I kinda fancy a walk,  you know?" 

"OK. Sure." John went to get into line. Mary was strange and a bit odd, but she was intriguing.

Mart kept of thinking about the English boy that had sent her to look out for John. He had been so little and emotionally broken. It felt wrong almost to be standing next to John when she barely knew him.

"Hey." John nudged her foot with his. "Come on. Wake up."

She blinked and looked up at him in mild surprise. "Hmm? Did you say something?"

"Yeah. I said let's go." He handed her a cup of coffee. "Anywhere you wanna walk to?"

"Anywhere. I just need to clear my head.  Know any places that are quiet and practically people free?"

"Yeah. I know a place." John smirked softly. He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Follow me."

Mary raised an eyebrow quizzically.  Where was the boy taking her?  She stood up and followed him out of the coffee shop.   
  
She took the coffee he'd bought for her gratefully. "So...where are you taking me?" 

"A spot I found by the river not too long ago," John said. He led her out of the shop and toward the woods. "It's not too far from here. Just trust me, yeah? I'm not going to murder you in the woods."

"I think you'd find yourself dead before you could even try." Mary said without missing a beat,  her face deadly serious. 

John blinked and stared at her. "What?" he squeaked out.

"I'm being deadly serious. With my kind of life, you learn how to defend yourself fairly quickly."

John blinked repeatedly. 'Um... OK? What are you even talking about?'

"I'm sorry.Ignore what I said,  OK?" 

"Yeah. Sure. No problem." John shook his head free of Mary's words and led her through the woods.

Mary sipped at her coffee as she followed John.  Poor boy.  He had no idea what he was letting himself in for. 

 

 


	27. Confessions

John led Mary down a trail toward the river. He reached a path less travelled and took it. Soon they were at his secret spot where he stashed some of his secrets.

"Well, here we are," he said.

Mary was very quiet, her eyes darting around the hidden spot in wonder.She couldn't help but feel like she was intruding on something precious and secret.

"Cigarette?" 

John reached behind his favourite spot and plucked out a packer of cigarettes from the place he stashed them.

Mary shook her head."I shouldn't."

John shrugged and pocketed the cigarettes. He took a long puff and blew it out his nose. He took the lid off his coffee and began sipping at the whipped cream on top.

"Sorry. I don't mean to appear rude.  Sometimes I just come off like that. " Mary sighed and stared at her shoes. "That's why everybody avoids me." 

"It's fine," John said. He took another deep puff from the cigarette. "I'm used to being alone. Though I kind of did it to myself."

"I know what you mean.  I try to avoid big groups of people, because then I think I'd talk.  If I talk I might just say something I'm not supposed to."

"I get it. I speak my my mind way too often. Usually ends with me getting in a fight."

"I don't mean speaking my mind.  I...you don't understand. "

"No, I don't understand." John finished his current cigarette and lit another. "Do you want to explain?"

She bit her lip in contemplation. "How good are you at keeping secrets?"

"Pretty good. Why?"

"Because I don't want you blabbing my secrets.  If you do, people are going to die."

John snorted, blowing out his last inhale of cigarette smoke through his teeth.

"Seriously?" He asked. "People are going to die? What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"John," She whispered cautiously. "Please,  I'm being deadly serious."

"Oh." John lowered his cigarette, his lips pursed as if to suck in another lungful of chemicals and tobacco. He studied the girl before him and noticed for the first time how tense and nervous she looked. " Are people really in danger?" He asked, his voice low.

She nodded . "Possibly. If anyone finds out about me.”

"Then maybe you shouldn't tell me. I don't want to keep such a heavy secret after only knowing you for five minutes. How do you know you can trust me? How do I know I can trust you?"

"I know I can trust you. You have a certain vibe about you."

John scoffed. "Seriously? I seem trustworthy to you?"

"Compared to the men I've had in my life? Yes.”

John raised an eyebrow at that. "Exactly how many men have you had in your life? And how old are you anyway? Should I be worried?"

Mary glanced away from John, unable to hold his gaze. "When I say men I don't mean relationships, at least not the kind of relationships you're clearly thinking about. "

"Then what did you mean?"

"There are men out there, bad men,  and they want me dead."

John could tell she was being serious. She just had that look that parents normally got when a relative died or the family dog got hit by a car. He extinguished what was left of his cigarette out of respect for the serious situation.

"What kind of men?" He asked, leaning forward slightly.

Mary exhaled shakily. "They're not the kind of men you want to befriend, let's put it that way. They'll stop at nothing to get what they want,  even if that means breaking the law and killing people."

"So, like, James Bond type people?"

Mary huffed a laugh. "Except this isn't a movie,  it's real life. It's MY life."

"So... you're a spy?" John asked, still not sure if he believed Mary's story or not.

Mary shook her head. "Not me, no. I'm not a spy.  My parents work for the C.I.A. My brother and I were both sent into protection after...an incident."

"Um... wow." John couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was she serious? One look at her face told him yes, she was. "I... I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything then. I just wanted to tell someone. It's a big secret,  and it's eating me alive."

"Um... wow. OK." John pulled out another cigarette and lit it, needing it to calm the tense air.

Mary bit her lip in thought. "I bet you don't want anything to do with me now, right?"

John just shrugged his shoulders and sucked on his cigarette. He blew the smoke out his nose like a dragon. "So long as what you told me doesn't kill me, I don't care."

"You're safe." She promised,  shuffling closer to him. "The men that I'm hiding from aren't even after me,  not really. I haven't got anything to offer them. No, I imagine they're hot on the heels of my parents,  that is if my mum and dad aren't dead already."

"Your parents are on the run?" John raised a questioning eyebrow. "And you're here all by yourself?"

She nodded and shrugged. "I'm OK.  I'm a big girl. I think I'm capable of looking after myself."

"I never said you weren't." John put out his cigarette and reached into the tree he was sitting on and pulled out a fifth of vodka. "Want a shot?"

"I  shouldn't," She whispered. "I need to be alert at all times,  that's what my dad said."

"One shot of vodka isn't going to get you drunk. You'll still be plenty alert. But if you don't want to, that's fine. More for me."

"Wait, " She paused in contemplation. "I suppose one shot can't hurt me,  can it?"

"It shouldn't." John took a large gulp before passing the bottle over to Mary. "You can fill the cap with alcohol and drink that. One cap is one shot."

She smiled-hoping that she looked relatively cool-and not completely nervous.  "What should we drink to?"

"Um... how about some semblamce of normality?"

Mary's face fell, part of her feeling slightly upset about John's words. "You don't think I'm normal?"

"What part of 'my parents are spies' says normal to you?" John asked.

"Screw my parents!" She snapped. "I'm normal! There's nothing wrong with me! "

"Jesus fucking Christ. Calm the fuck down. I didn't say you weren't normal."

"You didn't have to!" She bit back a large sob. "I know I'm a complete fuck up. "

"Mary, calm down," John said softly. "You're overreacting a bit. Just... come here." He scootched over on the log and patted the spot beside him.

Mary scootched closer to John but refused to meet his eyes. She felt ashamed of who and what she was.  She wasn't sure why she'd confessed her secrets to John. There was just something that she trusted about him-a gut feeling that John Watson was one of the good guys.

John took the bottle of vodka away from her and tucked it back into the tree. He placed a gentle yet awkward hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you," he said. "I didn't mean to do that."

"It's OK." She mumbled,  her head turning to hide in his shoulder. "It's not your fault. I'm just overly sensitive."

John's hand moved to hug her with one arm, their sides pressing against one another.

"It's OK," he murmured. "Your life must be pretty stressful given your parents' profession. Do you move around a lot?"

"You have no idea." She whispered. "I can't stay in one place for long. It's too dangerous."

"Ah. So you'll probably leave here when the semester is up, yeah?"

She nodded and sniffled quietly. "Probably.  I don't know where they'll ship me off to next."  She didn’t mention that it was in fact Sherlock who had sent her to him. 

"Oh." John's arm unconsciously squeezed her in a soft hug. "Well, at least the semester's only just begun. You've got until June."

"Yeh,  I suppose that's supposed to make me feel OK? "

"It's just supposed to make you feel better is all. It's barely February. You've got four months before you leave."

"I don't want to leave, not again."

"Then you stay. Tell them you don't want to go."

"I have no choice in the matter. I endanger both myself and people around me if I stay too long in one place."

"Well, if you have to leave, you might as well make the most out of the time you've got." He smiled at her softly. "Shall we break out the vodka again? Live a little?"

"Okay."

John pulled the bottle back out and unscrewed the cap. He took a couple large gulps before passing it over to her.

"Just be careful. It kinda stings if you aren't used to it."

"I never said that I'm not used to it,  did I?"   
  
She pressed the bottle to her lips and began swallowing the liquid like her life depended on it.

"Hey! Slow down!" John grabbed the bottle and pulled it away from her lips. "Jesus Christ!"

She refused to meet John's eyes. "Sorry. I'm...sorry."

"It's ok," John assured her. "Just don't drink so fast." He took a few more big gulps before passing the bottle back. "I don't have the money to pay my guy to buy me more right now. So this bottle has to last a while."

"Oh." Her lips pursed together. "I can help if money is an issue."

"It's fine. You'd only be paying for my slight alcoholism anyway. I need to cut back."

"I understand. I used to be fond of the bottle myself,  but since I've been on the run I've been trying to stay sober. "

John hummed as he pulled the fake Coke can out of the tree. He twisted the lid off to reveal about an ounce of marijuana. He was already slightly fuzy headed from the vodka, smoking was some weed wouldn't hurt him. He expertly began to roll up, Mary watching him all the while.  He gestured to his supply. "Want some."

"Yeh?" She asked. "S'pose it can't hurt. I haven't smoked in a while.  My dad caught me,  gave me a whack behind the head. It was the last time I saw him."

"How long ago was that?" 

"A couple of years ago. I'm not even sure where he is anymore."

"Damn. That's rough. I'm sorry." John pulled some cigarette paper out of his backpack and sprinkled some of the marijuana onto it. He sealed it up and offered it to Mary. "Here. You can have that one. I'll make my own."

"Cheers. Got a lighter?"

John held up his cigarette lighter.

Mary took it from him and lit up. "Thanks, " She said gratefully. "For everything"

"No problem. We all need to loosen up and chill sometimes."

"I don't mean that," She whispered. "I just mean thanks for actually wanting to be around me. "

"Oh." John let out the hit he'd been holding and smiled warmly at the girl. "It's no problem. I know how it feels to be alone and like no one wants to be your friend."

Mary allowed herself to inhale and exhale slowly. "Are you my friend?"

"I think so." John turned to look at her. "Are you mine?"

"Of course."

"Good." John held his blunt up as he would a toast. "To friends"

"Friends, " She laughed softly;  waving her hand in a gesture that she hoped conveyed her happiness. " And since you're now my friend I'm goingto  give you something special,  OK?"

"Sure. We should finish smoking first. Don't want perfectly good weed to go to waste."

"Yeh." She groaned softly. "This stuff is strong. I feel slightly fucked."

John giggled as he exhaled his current hit. "Yeah? It is pretty good shit. Maybe we shoulda had just the one and shared it."

"Where would the fun be in that?"  Mary giggled along side John,  soon they were both in hysterics.

John had fallen off the log and was lying on his back, his legs draped over the tree.

"God," he said when he'd caught his breath. He took another hit and blew it out his nose. "I haven't laughed like that in ages."

Mary crawled over to him,  feeling a little braver now in her state.  She rested her head on his chest and was surprised that he didn't flinch "Me neither. You make me feel happy. Happy happy. "

John hummed and rested a hamd in her hair. "Yeah," he murmured. "You make me happy too."

"Are you gonna tell me about your boyfriend?" Mary mumbled. "That's what friends do."

"Boyfriend?" John laughed and took another hit. "Am I that obvious?"

"Ahuh. If you weren't then I would be all over you by now."

John giggled. He finished his blunt and tucked the remaining paper back in the tree.

"He's not my boyfriend," he murmured. "We've never actually met 'cept on Skype."

"Does that mean you're single?" She smirked against him giddily. "Sorry. I don't mean to intrude. I'm merely curious."

'I'm not sure. I mean... I like my Skype buddy, but he's only 14. And I'm 16. I'd feel a little more comfortable if he were my age. And I haven't heard from him in a week. I miss him.'

"He's from England, right?" Mary hummed. "Cute. I can see why y' like him."

John froze. "I never told you he was from England. How did you know he was from England? Have you been spying on me?"

Mary hit him playfully. "Stop being so paranoid,  OK? You said you Skyped with him, right? You don't seem the kind of guy who falls for an American douchebag, so it's not someone from another state. Everyone knows you're obsessed with England. Anyone with two eyes can see that. I just put two and two together."

John visibly relaxed and thunked his head down on the grass. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Weed makes me a little paranoid."

"It's OK." She sighed and looked into John's eyes. "Your ‘not boyfriend’, would he object to me kissing you?"

John blushed and swallowed. "Uh... dunno," he whispered softly, the tension making him feel like he needed to be quiet. "Probably? Maybe? I... uh..."

Mary turned away from John, affronted and slightly hurt in her high state.

"Hey." John touched his fingertips to her jaw. "Mm sorry. You must really like me, huh?"

"I do, but it's not just that.  I guess I'm just tired.  I don't see the point any more."

"What? You mean... you mean you want to... give up." John pulled her against him in a tight hug. "Don't," he choked out. "Don't give up. Please."

"I'm not going to give up."  She whispered softly,  her words not particularly believable, even to her.

"Please don't give up," John whispered. "Please don't. Please."

"You don't know what it's like. I have no friends,  no family, no real home. I want to be touched and kissed and liked, but that's never going to happen. That isn't my life."

"I can make that happen," John whispered. He nuzzled her and slid a hand up her waist toward her chest. "You're a beautiful girl, Mary. My sort-of boyfriend doesn't need to know." He lowered his other hand to rest above the waistband of her jeans. '" I  can make you feel good. I can kiss you until you're breathless. I can make you writhe with pleasure. Do you want me to? We can be friends with benefits."

Mary wanted to say no- that it was a terrible idea. It would only end up with one of them getting hurt (Probably her). But she didn't say anything. Instead she moaned in agreement and pushed up against John's fingers.


	28. First Time Watson

 John groaned and slid his hand up to cup Mary’s breast. His other hand started unbuttoning her jeans so his fingers could slide inside her underwear.

"Have you ever done this before?" Mary asked cautiously, breaking away for a brief moment.  Her chest heaved up and down frantically as she drew in breath. "It's just...I've never..." 

"I'm not a virgin, no,"John said. Though it was a terrible lie. He’d only shown his cock to one person. That person was on the other side of the world. He’d never had sex before. Wanking in the shower to the screenshot of Sherlock’s cock didn’t count. "We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with."

Mary shook her head. "I might not get another chance. I'd like it if you were the one to...do the honours of taking my virginity."

"Right here? In the woods?" John slid his hands away for a brief moment. "I'd rather do this in a bed. Much more comfortable. How far away is your house?"

"I don't think going back to my place is a good idea anymore. I want you to have sex with me." She said bluntly. "My place is far too guarded to do that. " 

"OK. We'll go to mine then. I don't want your first time to be in the middle of the dirty woods" He stood and brushed leaves and moss off his clothes. "Come on.' He held a hand out to Mary to help her up.

"Will your folks be home?" 

"Nah. My parents are always gone for their jobs. We'll be fine." He smiled at her and pulled her close to him. "I want to kiss you first," he whispered.

She tensed in his arms. "OK. but can you at least pretend that you mean it?"

"That won't be a problem." He smiled softly at Mary and cupped her chin so she would look up at him. He unconsciously licked his lips, a nervous habit, as he looked down at her. He placed his other hand on her waist and pulled her flush against him. He didn't kiss her until he saw her eyelids flutter shut. Only then did he seal their lips together in a soft yet fiery kiss.

In that moment Mary's insecurities left her. She forgot about the fact she was on the run, forgot that John didn't really care about her,  forgot her loneliness. Her heart throbbed inside her chest. She just wanted someone to love her, someone who didn't treat her like glass. Her lips danced with John's as though they had done so many times before. 

John moaned loudly into the kiss. His hands tangled themselves in Mary's hair and pulled her closer. He was panting hard now, his cock throbbing in his jeans.

Mary pulled away from John,  panting heavily. She could feel his arousal pushing up against her. "Get me to your place. Now." 

John nodded frantically and grabbed their backpacks. He took Mary's hand and led her through the woods that went to his backyard.

"You're keen," She laughed softly as he tugged her eagerly. "Um...been a while?"

"A bit, yeah," The woods cleared to reveal John's backyard. He led Mary up the steps to the back porch and slid open the sliding glass door. He quickly took her to his room where he closed and locked the door behind them. He dropped their backpacks in front of the door as well.

"Um... yeah," he said a bit awkwardly. "This is my room."

"Right..." She looked around at the room. To her it looked like a heavenly space.  It was warm,  and what most people called messy,  she liked to think of it as homely. " It's nice. Like you." 

"Thanks." John blushed a soft pink. "So... Should we go ahead and do this then?"

"Um...I mean...have you got protection?"  

"Hrm? Oh! Yes! Condoms!" He dashed over to his bedside drawer and pulled out a few. "Yeah. Condoms galore."

"How long have you had those?" Mary picked up one of the packets. "They expire after a while."

"Condoms don't--" John's eyes widened when he saw the date printed on the packet. "Oh. Shit. Um... Fuck. I don't want to use these. Maybe I've got newer ones in here somewhere?" He frantically began pulling condoms out of the drawer and tried to find ones that either hadn't expired yet or had only expired a short time ago.

Mary grasped John's wrist. "Hey.  It's OK. Please calm down. I trust you,  I mean,  I trust that you're clean. No offence but...I somehow doubt you've lost your virginity. In fact,  you're Skype buddy was probably the first to see...your...you know? Come on. You can tell me." 

"No. That's not--" John flushed a deep red when he realised what Mary was implying. "I've had sex before!" He protested. "It just... it didn't last long." He was too embarrassed to admit that he was still a virgin, despite his many attempts at trying to get laid.

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "A bad experience? "

"Um... no." John's cheeks darkened. "I... uh... didn't last long. If you know what I mean?"

"I know. Why though? Didn't you like him very much?"

"It wasn't a him!" John shouted. "I lost my virginity to a girl, thank you very much! And yes, I liked her, perhaps a bit too much considering I came so early." Lies, lies, lies. He didn’t know where that had come from exactly. He just hated everyone around him assuming that he was gay.

"I'm sorry. I just assumed...I don't know.  It doesn't matter. The important thing is, do you like me?"

"What? Did you think I was gay? Because I'm not," John said defensively. "I'm pretty sure I'm bi-curious. But I'm not gay."

"I didn't assume anything. I just thought that maybe you just liked boys as well as girls. 

"Well, I'm not sure what I like," he mumbled. He went back to rooting through his drawer for a condom. "Ah-ha!" He pulled one out, the expiration date reading the next day. "Told ya I'd find one."

"I'm starting to feel like you're using me." 

"And you aren't using me?" John countered. "You just want to sleep with me to lose your virginity."

"Perhaps," She murmured.

"Then it's a no-strings-attached situation," John said. "Just sex. Nothing more."

"OK." Mary said,  her gut sinking with disappointment. "Just sex. I can live with that."

John felt rather than saw Mary's spirits sink. He licked his lips again and sighed. "I can't do more than just sex," he said. "I can be here to comfort you and lie with you and sleep with you when you need it. But I can't do a relationship right now. Sex and comfort and friendship are all I can offer right now."

"That's all I want. A friend." Mary could feel tears pricking at her eyes. "I guess I don't deserve you as a friend. I'm a bad kid. I'm bound to get you hurt or killed." 

"I don't care," John said softly. He moved toward her and reached out to wipe away her tears. "You deserve at least one friend, Mary."

"You will care," She whispered. "You won't want anything to do with me."

"No I won't," John said sternly. "Stop that. Stop depressing yourself. Stop doubting yourself. I won't grow bored of you, I won't start to hate you. We're friends, Mary. I'm not going to abandon you."

"You're not? Promise. Promise on your life." 

'I promise on my life,' John said, holding up his pinky.

Mary raised her little finger and linked it with John, squeezing lightly.  "Thank you." 

"You're welcome." John squeezed their pinkies before releasing. "So... Shall we do this then?"

"Ok. But...be gentle."

"OK." John placed the condom down on the bedside table and pulled Mary into his arms. "Let's start by kissing again, yeah?"

"Yes, kiss me."

"OK." John sat on the edge of his bed and pulled Mary down so she was straddling his lap. He slid his hands up her back as they began kissing again. It was soft and slow to start, but quickly grew heated as John's hands slid under Mary's bra to cup her bare breasts.

Mary moaned softly. John's hands were warm against her breast. Their heartbeats thudded against each other like two different melodies combining. One of John's hands slid down to rest above the swell of Mary's arse. He eased her down gently until she was rubbing up against his still clothed erection.

"Oh, god," he moaned, his hips thrusting minutely. "Fuck."

Mary cried out softly,  her hands moving to grab John's own rather plump bum. "It's now or never." She panted out. "Please,  I need...need..." 

"Yes," he moaned. His hamds were already pulling her shirt over her head. "God yes."

Mary's eyes glazed over with bliss as John hovered above her. They were do close that their breath was beginning to mingle together. 

John grabbed the condom from the table and slid it on. He groaned and squeezed himself at the base of his cock so he wouldn't come too early. He made sure Mary was comfortable before gently pressing the head of his cock against her.

"You ready?" He asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Mary instinctively opened her legs for John,  her breath catching in her throat. 

"OK. Just try and relax." John held his cock steady as he began to push against Mary. The head popped inside without any trouble.

"Oh. My. God." Mary's eyes widened and she tensed visibly. "Fuck. That feels so...weird." 

"Good weird or bad weird?" John asked. He pushed in a little farther until he found Mary's hymen.

“Good weird, I think.”

"Good." John squeezed the base of his cock again. Mary was incredibly tight, and he was worried he wouldn't last long. "This next bit might hurt. I have to push past your hymen, and it's gonna tear. So just... brace yourself, yeah?"

"Tear? That doesn't sound right. Sex isn't supposed to hurt. "

"Your first time it might," John told her. "I mean, I'll be as gentle as possible, but you might still feel some discomfort. Just trust me, OK?"

"I trust you." She whispered,  though her voice didn't sound convinced. She closed her eyes and waited for John to enter her fully. 

"I'll go slow," John promised. "Tell me to stop if it hurts." He gently began to thrust deeper inside Mary, little by little.

 Mary groaned softly. She couldn't decide whether she was in discomfort or pleasure. She was somewhere between the two. 

"Do you feel OK?" John asked her after a moment. He still wasn't in all the way, but he wanted to be sure she was alright before he went further. "Do you hurt at all?"

"It's a little uncomfortable." She said honestly. "Take it slowly,yeh?" 

"Of course." He leant down to kiss her softly as he steadily pushed his way further inside her.

Mary felt herself clamping around John's cock,  her wetness enclosing around the throbbing organ now inside her. An involuntary moan escaped her, the sound slightly muffled,  given she was currently very busy showing her appreciation to John by kissing him as passionately as she could muster. 

John finally bottomed out and stopped pushing. He groaned as he settled inside Mary's tight and oh so wet cunt.

"Fuuuck," he groaned.

Mary moaned in agreement. Fuck was a very fitting word for what she was feeling.  John pulled out slowly before easing his way back in. Mary was still very tight, and he wanted her to relax before he began moving faster.

Mary tried to get herself to relax but it was impossible. John was pulsing deep inside of her. The  sensation was so peculiar that it was the only thing she could concentrate on.  

"Hey," John whispered. He kissed Mary softly. "Stop concentrating on the pain. You need to relax. I don't want this to hurt you. It should be enjoyable."

"I'm not in pain. Discomfort, yes, but I'm mainly thinking about how your cock is pulsing inside me."

John felt his cock twitch inside her. "Jesus," he moaned. "God damn. I... can I move? Or do you need time to adjust?"

"You can move. It's OK." Mary kissed John gently,  trying to coax him into moving. 

John hummed softly and kissed her back. He began to thrust gently, in and out, in and out, building a steady rhythm. Mary shuddered pleasantly and kissed John harder,  faster,  more insistently. Fuck he was good at this. She moaned and pressed her body closer to his instinctively. 

John gasped and thrust as deep as he could go. His hands sought out her breasts and squeezed.Mary gasped loudly and she found herself starting to shudder. She was already tantalisingly close; she could taste it. There was a sensual heat coiling in her belly and suddenly...

"HOLYFUCKINGSHITJOHN!"

John grunted almost painfully as Mary's orgasm sparked his own. He buried himself deep and pulsed inside the condom, all the while making very painful sounding grunting noises into Mary's neck as he came.

Mary lay pathetically beneath John, unable to comprehend what had just happened. It was like an outer body experience. Something that would happen to a fictional character, not her. John finally stopped cumming and collapsed on Mary with a satisfied grunt. They lay there, chests heaving as they caught their breaths. John had never felt so utterly boneless and blissful in all his life.

Mary raised  her hand and placed it on the small of John's neck,  squeezing lightly. "Was I OK?" 

"You were fucking fantastic," John mumbled into her neck.

"I was?" She asked,  surprised. "You really think so? I barely did anything. "

"Yes. Wonderful. Brilliant. So fucking tight. Ugh." He nuzzled her neck and began to place kisses along it. "You felt so good."

Mary leaned in to John's kisses,  humming softly. "I thought you were pretty good yourself. "

"Thanks," John purred. He nipped Mary's neck, leaving a little red mark.

Mary gasped softly. "This is the happiest-" another gasp. "I've been in a while."

John growled and bit down onto her neck, leaving teeth marks on her skin. "Good," he purred. "This has been a fucking wonderful experience."

"Can we do this again?" Mary asked softly. "Make it a regular thing?" 

"Course." John eased out and binned the condom. "Though we'll want to wait a couple days. You're gonna be really sore. You can take a shower here if you like. Clean yourself up and all that. Might help."

"That's kind of you.  I just want to lie here for now though, catch my breath." 

"Sure. That's fine. I might take a quick shower though. I smell weed in my hair, and I don't want my parents to smell it whenever they return home. That won't be for a while though. So you don't need to worry."

"I might be asleep by the time you're out of the shower. You rather tired me out." 

"That's fine. You can put one of my t-shirts on to sleep in if you want." He kissed her softly and hummed.

"Might just take you up on that offer. She smiled gently. "Can you pick me one out? I don't want to move just yet." 

"Sure." John slid out of bed and went over to his dresser. He pulled out a plain grey shirt and a pair of blue boxers. "Here. Hope they fit."

"It doesn't matter if they fit." She hummed sleepily and slid into them.  They were much too big for her but they were almost comforting in a way. They reminded her of when she was little playing dress up in her dad's giant shirts. 

"Alright. Well, I'll be in the shower if you need me. Otherwise, night."

"Night, " Mary curled up beneath the covers and hummed. Maybe life was looking up after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	29. Mary/John Watson

John grabbed his phone from his jeans and took it with him into the bathroom. He went to his favourite playlist and turned it on to listen to whilst he showered.

Mary fell asleep with surprising ease. She was usually too haunted to sleep, images of her past burnt into her memory.  But her body was exhausted and she felt safe;safer than she'd felt in a long time. 

* * *

 

John washed the smell of sex off him and just stood under the spray for a while. He slightly regretted what he'd done. If Sherlock ever found out... he couldn't lose him. The kid was so young and impressionable. He'd be devastated if he found out about Mary. He couldn't let Sherlock know. He couldn't.

He got out of the shower 45 minutes later and wrapped a towel around his waist. He turned his music off and noticed he had a new email. He opened the app and gasped when he realised Sherlock had sent him an ask.

*John,  sorry  about not contacting sooner. Home is hectic.  I'm busy but fine. I've found happiness. Messages are without meaning. Are you OK? This is for the impossible boy. John, bye.*

John raised an eyebrow at the message. What was Sherlock going on about? Messages without meaning? Impossible boy? What? He messaged Sherlock back.

*Thank you for finally messaging me! I've missed you. Are you OK? What's with the absence? Please call me on Skype when you can. I miss you. ~John*

* * *

 

Mary stirred in the bed, a slender limb flopping gracefully out of the covers.   
  
"No." She whispered in a small voice. "No, no, no. Please. Don't..." 

John set his phone down and went to see what was happening with Mary. Bad dream, most likely.

"Hey," he whispered. "Hey. It's OK. You're safe."

"No...not safe. Coming...they're coming...For me. Oh god. They're coming for me!" 

"Mary! Wake up!"He shook her shoulder in an attempt to wake her.

She screamed,  recoiling from the touch. "Get away from me! Get away! Please. Just go!" 

"Mary! It's me! John!" He yelled. "I'm not going to hurt you! Just wake up!"

Mary's screams grew louder, heaving sobs wracking her small body simultaneously. She was scared.  So scared.  

"Mary!" John screamed. "Wake up!" When she still didn't wake, he ran to grab a glass of cold water and threw it on her.

John gasped when she grabbed him, unsure what she was going to do. A headlock? Some sort of Black Widow assassin move?Mary didn't do any of those things. Instead, she hugged the warm body against her, shaking like a wounded animal. 

John was surprised and relieved to receive the hug. He pulled Mary against him and sat her comfortably in his lap. He hugged her close and pet her hair to try and soothe her.

"Sorry...sorry...sorry..." She repeated the word until it became a a pathetic whispered chant.

"Shhh," John whispered softly. "It's OK. It's OK."

"It's...it's OK?" She asked in a small voice. 

"Yes. It's OK," John murmured. He kissed her forehead softly. "It's OK."

Mary's lips found their way onto  John's and suddenly they were kissing like their lives depended on it. 

John's towel was lost somewhere into the kiss and Mary was straddling his lap. His hands slid down to cup the swell of her arse and one of her breasts through his t-shirt.When Mary pulled back from the kiss she was flushed pink. She eyed John's hands-noting how they were caressing her hungrily. "John..."

"Hrm?" John looked up at her, his eyes blown wide with lust. He managed to calm himself down enough to take in her expression. His brow creased with concern. "What's wrong? Do you want me to stop?"

"Not stop,  no, but can you slow down?"

"Oh. Sure. Of course." John placed his hands on her waist versus on her breasts. "Sorry about that. My libido is a bit... overexcited."

"Yeh, I can see that. I'm sorry about being such a...freak. Did I scare you when I started screaming?" 

"Just a bit," John said softly. "You sounded like you were being murdered."

Mary pressed her face against his neck. "Oh god. I'm sorry. I'm mortified."

"Hey now."John's hands wrapped around her in a tender hug. "It's alright. Really, it is. I was more scared for you than me. You sounded so terrified."

"I was. I spend a majority of my life feeling terrified. " 

"Well you don't have to feel so terrified when you're with me," John murmured. "You're safe here. Promise."

"I feel safer now I'm with you."

"Yeah?'"A small smile graced its way onto his lips. "Good. I'm glad you think so."

"Do you mind if I stay tonight? Only,  I can't face going home tonight. I have no one waiting for me."

"Yes," he murmured. "You can stay."

"Will your parents mind? I mean...I'm a strange girl in your bed. " 

"My parents never come into my room. Besides, they work from dawn until dusk. They'll be too exhausted to question why you're here. If they see you at all that is."

"Doesn't it get lonely?  I mean...With  your parents away all of the time? "

"A bit, but I'm used to it by now." He eased her off his lap so he could pull on a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt.

"You don't have to be lonely anymore. You've got me. I'm not going anywhere,  at least not for a while. "

John smiled gratefully at her. He crawled into bed and pulled her against him. "Good," he whispered. He kissed her softly and hummed. "Good."

"I guess it's kinda fitting that we met. We're both lonely...both outsiders. And you're so kind.  I wish there were more John Watsons in the world. "

John hummed and nuzzled her. "Thanks for that," he murmured tiredly. He yawned so wide his jaw clicked. "Iz nice to hear compliments from someone for a change."

"You honestly don't see it, do you?" She whispered,  staring into his eyes intensely. "You're a good person, John." 

John snorted and shook his head. "Me? Good? Please. While I've never killed anyone, I've never done anything with my life to even remotely consider myself a good person. I drink underage, I do drugs, I smoke, and I have sex. I'm not bad, but I'm not good either. I'm nothing, Mary. To the school, to my parents, and to the rest of the world."

"You're wrong." Mary said firmly. "Has anyone told you that you can be a massive idiot? Why can't you see it? I can see it. " 

"Well, I'm glad you have such faith in me." He sighed and ran a hand down his face. "I'm tired, Mary. Can we please go to sleep? We have school in the morning."

Mary gripped hold of John tight,  frozen against him. She didn't want to sleep, not when she knew nightmares waited for her on the other side. She did the only thing she could think of in her situation: she kissed John Watson. 

"Mmmf!" John grunted against her lips. He allowed her to kiss him though. She was very good at it, and he enjoyed kissing her, but she obviously needed the comfort given her earlier nightmare.

Mary didn't stop at the kiss. It wasn't enough.  She had to prolong the distraction. She crawled down his body and began to breathe heavily on John's erection. It was enough to drive him insane.

"Fuuuuck," John moaned. A hand rested on Mary's head and his hips thrust up to meet her lips. "Oh my god, Mary. What the fuck are you doing to me?"

"Something good I hope." Mary laughed softly,  her breath bearing over the very prominent outline of John's cock. "I've never given a blow job before  but I have a fair idea of how they work. "

"I... I can... fuck..." John groaned and panted. Mary was driving him crazy. "I can talk you through it as best I can."

"There's no need to talk me through it.  YouTube is an amazing website,  don't you think?" 

John blinked. "You... you actually watched a YouTube tutorial on how to give a blow job?"

Mary smirked smugly. "A girl has to find her entertainment somehow. "

"Wait. Wait." John sat up on his elbows and looked down at her. "Do you watch your porn on YouTube too?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "If you don't shut up you won't be receiving any form of sexual gratification. You're far prettier when your mouth is closed. "

John scowled and huffed out a harsh breath through his nose. He plopped back down and threw his hands up in defeat.

"Fine. Go ahead and suck me off. But if you keep talking to me like that I won't fuck you again."

Mary frowned and pulled back.   
  
"Do you honestly think this is about fucking? Because I couldn't care less about that. I just wanted to pay you back. Jeez. You could at least sound happy about getting a blow job. " 

John groaned and slapped a hand over his face. "Jesus Christ. Why does everything have to be so god damn complicated?" He wiped his hand down his face and sighed. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed out of my mind and worried about my friend and you scare the hell out of me because I don't know how to act around girls."

Mary's frown loosened and she sighed softly.    
  
"It's OK. Perhaps we rushed into this. I'm clearly wading into murky waters. You're in love with him, aren't you?  I mean maybe not in love,  but you love him. You'll never love me. You barely know me,  and I guess because you rushed to have sex with me you're just using me as a distraction. You don't want to make friends with me.  I'm sorry I'll never be good enough for you. Maybe I should leave?" 

"No. Please don't go." John sat back up and scootched closer to Mary. "I'm not sure if I love my British buddy, but I care about him a lot. And yes, we definitely rushed into this, but I do want to be friends with you. I honestly do."

"You don't know me, or the kind of girl I am. My biggest fear is that you'll grow to dislike me. Or worse, grow to hate me. " 

"I have the same fear that you'll think the same of me," John said softly. "I'm just waiting for you to realise that I'm a hipster douchbag and you'll stay far away from me."

"That isn't going to happen, I swear. I know a good man when I see one. " 

A small smile actually graced its way onto John's lips. "Thanks," he murmured. "Given all you've been through, I guess your people judgement must be honed to perfection."

"Yes, I've seen bad men John,  really bad men. You're not a bad man. You might not be a completely perfect man,  but your heart is good. That makes you a good man." 

John pulled her in for a tender hug. "Thank you," he whispered. "I really needed to hear that."

"You're welcome. We should sleep. Maybe the blow job was a bad idea. We need to slow down. You can take me out on a proper date tomorrow, OK?

"Sure." John grinned at the prospect. "Right after school."

"Or...we could just skip school. I doubt anyone would notice." She whispered in his ear, her voice dropping with seduction. 

"Ugh. Mary," John groaned. His cock was swelling at just the prospect. "O-O-OK," he stammered.

"You, Mr Watson, are very dirty minded. " Mary laughed softly. "Though that isn't a completely bad thing." 

"Glad you think that." He groaned again and  tried to force his erection to go away. "So, we'll be playing hooky tomorrow. What shall we do?"

"Anything you want to, you decide. "

John hummed and pulled her against him. "You are dangerous, Mary. Such a flirt and a tease. My cock isn't going to let me sleep properly tonight. I'm going to be dreaming of fucking you all night."

"Why dream when you can have me right now? " Mary asked, grinding herself against John's erection.

John gasped and nearly cried out from the sparks of pleasure that shot up his spine.

"Oh god! Mary!" he groaned loudly. "We... we can't yet. You've got to be sore. I don't want to hurt you."

Mary laughed softly and rolled off  John. "I was merely giving you a small insight into  what to look forward to tomorrow. " 

"Oooh, you tease," John groaned. "But alright. We really ahould sleep. Save our energy for later."

"Then we can fuck for as long as you want." Mary smirked. "I'm all yours. "

"Ugh!" John cried. "Mary! Stop teasing me! You aren't helping my current situation!" He pointed to his groin and his erection straining in his pants.

Mary laughed softly and traced a finger along John's cock. "I'm sorry. Am I driving you crazy?" 

John's hips jumped and his head flopped back on his pillow.

"Y-y-yes!" He cried.

"Crazy enough to cum in your pants?" Mary asked in a soft sultry voice.

John gasped and nodded frantically. Mary squeezed his cock and he reached his limit, already sitting on the edge thanks to her teasing. He cried out softly as he came, ruining his boxers and probably staining his sheets too.

Mary was satisfied with her work. Never before had she imagined having such control over a boy; a gorgeous boy at that.   
She rested her head against his chest-happy to listen to the gentle thud thud of his heart pulsing beneath her ear. 

John practically fell asleep as soon as his orgasm ended. He collapsed in bed and was snoring within minutes.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you notice Sherlock's skip code? If you missed it, here it is decoded for you: 
> 
> John, sorry. Not home. I’m fine. Happiness without you is impossible.


	30. Getting Caught

Mary didn't sleep-she hardly slept anyway so it hardly made a difference to her. Instead she focused on how warm John was and how safe she felt. It wasn't a feeling she was used to so she was soaking it up as much as she could.

John woke as he normally did; hard, horny, and slightly hungover. He groaned and flopped an arm over his eyes to block out the sun streaming through his window.Mary was completely exhausted, so exhausted that she felt ironically wide awake. She looked over at the groaning and grumbling John Watson,  smiling gently.

"Hey sleepy, you waking up?" 

John grunted in response and jammed a hand down his pants to hide his growing erection. He'd forgotten about his orgasm last night and his hand grabbed onto a sticky cock caked in dried cum.

"Ew!" he cried. He wrenched his hand out of his pants and threw the blankets off himself to see what he'd grabbed. "Fuck! That's fucking disgusting!"

Mary huffed and sat up on her elbows. "Excuse me? That's not very nice. "

"What?" John looked over at Mary and laughed at her bedhead. "Sorry. I didn't mean you. I mean my boxers. They're gross."

"Hmm? Oh." Mary laughed softly,  slightly relieved. "I thought my face had offended you or something."

"No. It could never do that," John assured her. "I need to have a shower and some clean boxers wouldn't go amiss. I'll have to throw these out. They're ruined beyond repair. No thanks to you, missy." He winked at her playfully before he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

"Wait!" Mary called  after John. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

John stopped and turned around to look at Mary. "Um... no?" He asked. "What am I forgetting?"

"Come here and I'll show you. " Mary smirked and beckoned him over. He walked over and she grabbed John roughly and pulled him down on to her. "This, " She whispered,  drawing him into a kiss. John moaned into the kiss and easily deepened it. He straddled her lap and tangled his fingers in her hair. "Mmm. That's the spirit. There's no point in having a shower if you're going to act so filthy. "

"You're so dirty," John moaned into her mouth. "Join me in the shower? We can try our hands at shower sex."

"I..." She faltered slightly,  stumbling to find the right words. "I don't know . I know I come across as dirty but shower sex screams porn.  I see myself as better than porn, you know? " 

John sat back and pondered that. He nodded after a moment, agreeing with her.

"Yeah. It does sound kind of porny. But, you know, I watch porn pretty frequently. So, um... yeah."

"So?" Mary huffed,  pushing John away slightly. "I'm better than porn. I'm not just a body,  you know? "

"I didn't mean it like that, Mary," John said. "I meant that because I watch a lot of porn, my ideas of how sex works is probably really warped. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

“It's ok...I suppose. I just don't want to be treated like I'm some kind of porn star. I want to have a real relationship with you, not some quick hook up where we fuck every five minutes. I'm sorry if I've come on too strong or if I've given you the wrong impression. I just want to be more than your fuck buddy. Is that too much to ask? " 

"No," John murmured. "No, it's not." He settled down in the bed (after taking off his disgusting boxers) and pulled Mary against him. "I'm not ready for such a huge commitment, but I can treat you the way you deserve to be treated. I can give you that."

"I'm not asking you to get down on one knee for me. I just want someone to genuinely care about me,  even if that someone only cares a tiny bit. "

"I can do that," he whispered. "I just wish you'd stop saying I care about you only a little bit. I care you a lot, Mary. I've told you things even my closest friends don't know."

Mary buried her face against John's chest,  her voice muffled.  "I'm just not used to people caring about me."

"I kinda figured that," John murmured. He began petting her hair to try and soothe her.

"You don't have to be nice to me."

"Maybe I want to be nice to you," he countered. "You deserve to be treated nicely, Mary."

"So do you. I just don't get why people avoid you. You're gorgeous and kind and smart.  It doesn't make sense. 

"I just put people off I guess," John murmured. "I just give off this hostile aura. You're one of the few people who still want to hangout with me despite my dickish behaviour."

"Maybe that's why I like you. I rather like hostile. "

John chuckled and nuzzled her hairline. "OK. I get that. You sure are one interesting girl, Mary. So many twists and turns. A mystery that I'll never solve. You really intrigue me."

"I don't think you'd like me if you solved all of my puzzles." 

"Then I won't pry into you like a puzzle." He felt some tension in her shoulders and his hands automatically attempted to massage them away. "You aren't something I can just piece together. You're a human being, and we all have our secrets. I won't pry into your darker parts of yourself if you won't pry into mine. OK?"

"OK." She agreed. "Thanks,  I appreciate it. Most people try to pick away at my past. I hate it. They have no right." 

"No. It's not any of their business. What's in the past is in the past, and it should stay there."

"It doesn't bother you that you know so little about me? "

"No. I don't usually like getting so close to people anyway. With a couple exceptions anyway."

"Right. " Mary smiled softly. "Well,  that's a relief. I really like you, you know? " 

"Yeah?" He grinned at her. "I like you too."

"I think you should kiss me now." Mary grinned. "You're a very good kisser. "

"Am I?" John grinned cheekily at her. He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to look at him.

"Yes, you're a brilliant kisser. And now you're mine I just can't stop thinking about those lips of yours. " 

John hummed and leant down to kiss her softly.Mary smoothed her hands down over the curve of John's plump bottom,  giving it a playful squeeze. She felt herself getting lost in that kiss,  and soon she was a completely melted puddle beneath him. 

 John moaned into her mouth, his fingers tangling in her hair. He got a knee between her legs and she easily spread them.

"May I?" He asked her, his hand sliding up her thigh.

"You don't even have to ask. I trust you. "

John's fingers slid up her thigh and slid beneath the pair of boxers she still had on. They teased her for a moment, just the barest of touches to her inner thigh, before he moved his hands to pull her boxers off.

"Oh."   
  
She gasped softly and spread her legs wider for John. He hummed appreciatively and kissed her a little harder. His fingers ghosted over her thigh again before sliding over to tease her clit.

 "Careful, " She murmured. "I'm a little sore still."

"I know," John whispered. "You will be for a couple days." His fingers stopped moving and a sly grin spread across his lips. "How about we try something new?"

"Something new?" She asked curiously. "What do you have in mind? "

"How about my mouth?" John smirked at her and slid down her body. "That OK?"

"Oh..." She flushed. "Sure.  We can try that. "

John grinned and lowered his mouth toward her hot centre. He poked his tongue out and gently lapped along her clit.

She moaned softly. The sensation was strange yet pleasant. She hadn't been expecting that.   
  
"Oh god. That feels good. " 

John felt a little braver after that. So he placed his tongue flat against her clit and licked. Sex, Mary thought, was peculiar. One body part slid into another and a chain reaction inside her was set off. Her senses were overwhelmed.His masculine scent lingered in the air,  surrounding her. His wet tongue moved in unimaginable ways.  The roughness of his hands rubbed against her thigh. 

She panted,  her back arching off the bed with pleasure,  her hands gripping the sheets bellow her until her knuckles turned a pale white.   
  
She screamed.   
  
Then everything was all over. 

John pulled back when she stopped trembling. His chin was wet with a combination of his own saliva and her natural lubrication. He grabbed his soiled boxers and cleaned up his face before checking on Mary.

"You OK?" he asked softly.

Mary blinked up at him,  his voice washing over her in warm waves. " Hmm...OK?" She asked, her voice tinted with confusion. 

"Yeah," he said softly. "Are you OK? Your scream sounded almost painful."

"No." She chuckled. " I'm not in pain. I just feel...overwhelmed. You were surrounding me...your scent...your touch...your very skilled tongue. " 

"Oh." John chuckled and laid down beside her. "So that was a good scream then?"

"I guess so." She smirked. "A really good scream." 

"A very good scream," John murmured before kissing her again.

Mary hummed happily against John's lips. "John,  I kinda really like you."

"I kinda really like you too," he whispered back.

She wriggled down his body so that she was resting against his chest. "How much do you like me?"

"A lot," he said. "Like, I like you as a friend and also as a bit more than a friend, you know?"

"I feel the same way. I want to be your best friend,  but at the same time I want to eat whipped cream off your body. "

John snorted and laughed out loud. "Yeah," he said between chuckles. "I know the feeling quite well."

"What about your Internet buddy?" Mary whispered. "How will this dynamic even work? "

"He's in England, and too far away to start any sort of relationship," John murmured. "Besides, I'm not sure our relationship would even be legal. He's not even 15, and I'm nearly 17."

"And how old do you assume I am?" Mary asked in a small voice. "Because you never asked."

"I did, back in the woods last night," John pointed out. "You never answered. But you seem like you're 16 or 17."

"Right." Mary mumbled, pressing her face against his chest and letting out a groan. "Of course you'd think that."

John's face paled significantly. "Why?" He asked. "Are you not that old? Are you... are you younger than that?"

"My whole identity is a lie. Why does my age matter? " 

"Just for my own personal crisis," John mumbled. "Did I have sex with a minor? Yes or no?"

"God no!" Mary spat faster than she could blink. " I'm not a minor." 

"Thank god," John breathed out in relief.

"Well, good to see I just had sex with someone who has morals." Mary said sarcastically. 

"I'm just happy I didn't just rape a minor," John grumbled. "Is that really such a bad thing to be relieved about?"

"You didn't rape me,  that's not how the law would see it anyway. Perhaps the other way round, seeing as..." 

"Oh," John whispered. "*I'm* the minor in this situation."

"You've got to understand, John,  I'm not using you. I really do like you. What does age matter?" 

"I know you like me," he murmured. "And I like you too. I'd just like to know how much of an age gap there is between us. Just so I know something. Like, can you tell me if you're still a teenager or are you in your twenties?"

Mary sighed softly but she knew her easiest option was to come clean.  
  
 "I'm not a teenager. Haven't been one for a good few years. "

"Oh. OK,' John said softly. "That's OK. I don't mind that you're older than me. I'm just happy you let me know."

"You really don't mind?" 

"No. I really don't," he assured her. "I'm just glad I won't get hit with a statutory rape charge. You shouldn't either since the age of consent here is 16."

"I can't tell you my real age, John. I want to but..."

"Of course not," he whispered. "I understand. You need to protect your identity. You won't have to worry. Your secret is safe with me."

"Good." She sighed in relief. "And your secret is safe with me."

"What secret?" John asked.

"You have a lot of secrets,  I think, things you just don't want other people to know. Your little British buddy for one,  I bet there aren't many people that know about him. Am I right? "

"No," John murmured. "Only you and I know about him."

"Look,  you've got to promise me something.  Promise that if you really love him you'll chase him all the way to England,  you'll grab him by the shoulders and you'll kiss him. Because,  I don't want to hold you back from doing that. You should focus on your own happiness. "

"I will," John whispered. "Of course I will. I need to save up some money first,which requires a job that I don't have. But I'll get there someday."

"For now, you've got me. I'm not much,  and I'm probably not the best person in the world,  but I really like you."

"I like you too, Mary," John whispered.

"Show me how much you like me." Mary whispered. "I think I've forgotten. "

"Alright," John said. He pulled her in for a soft kiss and wrapped her up in a warm hug.

Mary hummed against John's lips in delight.    
  
"Well,  that's a very nice start. "

"I would do more," he murmured into the kiss, "but I know you're still sore. And I don't want to hurt you."

"Yeh...I suppose so. Sorry,  I'm just keen to please you. I don't want you getting bored with me. " 

"I don't think I could ever get bored with you," he assured her gently. "You're my friend, Mary. And I'm not going to flip a switch and suddenly hate you."

"If I close my eyes I think I could almost believe that." 

"Hey." John poked her in her ribs and caused her to giggle. "Trust me, OK? You're my friend now, and I don't turn my back on my friends."

"God, how are you even real? It's like you're straight from a movie or something." 

"Do I really sound that cheesy?" John asked, a slight frown pulling at his lips.

"It's OK. You're the good kind of cheese. The sort found on really great pizza." 

John snorted and laughed.

"Come on, you're the sweetest guy I've ever met. So what if you're just a big ol' cheesball. Right now you're my cheesball."

John continued to laugh and pulled Mary close to him. He kissed her when his laughter subsided and held her tight.

"You're pretty amazing, you know that?" He asked her when he pulled away.

"I try my best." She grinned. "It's good to hear you laughing.  You sound almost happy. "

"Yeah. I have random bouts of happiness now and again." He nuzzled her hair and sighed. "I can't remember the last time I laughed like that."

"I hope I make you laugh many more times. I like your laugh."

"Thank you." He smiled at her and kissed the tip of her nose.

Mary laughed and bit her lip. "You're cute." 

"Thank you." John blushed and quickly mumbled, "You're beautiful."

"Come on, I'm nothing special." 

"No, you're really beautiful," he assured her.

"I'm ugly John. I'm dark,  rotten down to the roots. I wish you could see that side of me."

"And I wish you could see what I see," he countered. "A beautiful girl who has been thrown into a life she doesn't deserve."

"I'm a bad person. Bad people deserve what they get given." 

"Have you killed anyone?" John asked rather bluntly.

"Yes." She replied with an equal bluntness. 

"Oh," John gasped softly. "Well, was it in self-defence?"

"Not all of the time. Does that bother you?" 

"A little bit," John said honestly. "I don't want to condone murder or anything."

"The men I've killed are very bad men. They deserve to die for their crimes."

"OK, " John whispered. "Just so long as you didn't kill to kill. "

"I'm an assassin, not an ebery day serial killer."

"Oh. OK." A small smile found its way onto his lips. "Assassins are actually pretty cool. Are you like a ninja too?"

" I'm deadly fast and secretive, just like a ninja. "

"That's actually pretty cool." He grinned at her and pulled her back against his chest. "And kind of sexy."

"Just kind of sexy?" She asked. "I was hoping for more than that."

"Like what?" John asked. "Intimidating? Hardcore? Parkour?"

"No. Actually I was hoping for /very/ sexy." She smirked.

"Oh" John grinned coyly and grabbed her by the waist. "Yes. It's very sexy," he purred.

Mary leaned down to kiss John. Her lips connected with his and she felt an immediate spark. There was definitely a heated connection between them.John moaned softly into the kiss. A hand slid up to her hair and tangled in her short locks. His other hand gently caressed her side, up and down her thigh up to her chest.

Mary was so consumed in kissing John,  caressing his body,  that she didn't hear the door open. But she did hear the footsteps.   
  
She froze mid kiss.   
  
"John,  please tell me that's your Ma or your Pa."

John opened his eyes, his lips still connected to Mary's, and peered over at the door. He visibly relaxed when he saw the familiar shit-eating grin on his brother's face.

"No," he murmured. "It's my brother."


	31. Harry Watson

Mary hid her face against John's chest and laughed, feeling mostly relieved.   
  
"Thank god. I thought for a moment there..." 

“So, Johnny,” Harry said, interrupting her. He leant against the doorframe and smirked devilishly at the pair. “Who's your new friend? And why is she wearing your shirt?”

Mary groaned softly and pressed her face further against John's chest.  She felt mortified, especially as she was stark naked bar the borrowed shirt. 

“This isn't really the best time, Harry,” John grumbled. “Give us a moment, OK? We'll meet you in the living room, alright? Please, just go.”

"You mean I can't stick around for the show?" Harry asked, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Fuck off, Harry!” John snapped.

" Sure, I'll fuck off. I guess I'll just go tell mom and dad about how there's a strange girl in your bed."

“Not unless you want me to tell them about the weed you grow!” John shot back.

Harry snorted. "The same weed you smoke, right?"

“What about the alcohol you buy me? And the cigarettes? And the skin mags? Do you want to go to jail for buying such paraphernalia for a minor?”

"I've saved your fucking arse so many times, so I know you wouldn't dump me in the shithouse." 

“I am not about to have this argument again, Harry,” John growled. “Just give us a moment and we'll discuss this over breakfast. Okay?”

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll go make breakfast. Let me guess,  egg sunny side up with a side of sausage and bacon?"

“'Please and thank you,” John mumbled.

"And what about your little lady friend? Does she want anything?" 

'Do you want anything?' John whispered to her.

"Just a bacon sandwich thanks." She whispered back. 

“Bacon sandwich,” John told his brother. “Now can we please have some time to get dressed?”

Harry sniggered. "Sure. I'll leave you two lovebirds to it."

John groaned and flopped back against the bed when Harry left. “I, am so, sorry,” he said to Mary. “I forgot he was home. He's usually out partying with his college buddies.”

"It's OK. He's alright. A bit of a dick but he seems pretty cool." 

“Yeah, well, now you've met my buyer,” he grumbled. “All illegal substances I use I get from him. Weed, alcohol, cigarettes, and porno mags all come from him. Cuz he's 22 and can legally buy all that.”

"Ah. So you're not going to dump him in the shithouse then." She grinned softly. "He has dirt on you." 

“Yeah. But he'd get in more trouble than me if we're ever found out. He was the one buying for a minor after all. And that means jail time.”

"Yeh,  but I doubt you'd really like to see your brother behind bars because of you."

“No. I'd hate myself. And he'd hate me for the rest of his life.”

“Damn right I would!” Harry shouted from behind the closed door. “Now stop talkin' bout me and get dressed! I wanna know who your new girlfriend is!”

"Wow. What was I saying about him seeming like a dick?" 

“That he was only a bit of one,” John grumbled. “Changed your mind?”

" He's a complete dickhead." 

“Thought you'd come around eventually. “He patted her bum before he sat up and stretched. “Come on. We should get dressed and head out to the kitchen before he barges in here again.”

"Have you got anything I can wear...Other than this I mean?"  She gestured to the shirt she was wearing.

“Yeah. But you can keep that shirt if you want. It looks good on you. And I like seeing you in my clothes.” He grinned and kissed her softly.

Mary hummed softly, smiling against John's lips. "You're such a romantic. I knew that from the moment I first saw you. It took me a while to bring up the guts to actually speak to you and when I did you practically  bit my head off."

“Yeah.” John winced at the memory. “Sorry about that. Yesterday was a bad day for me. Emotionally at least.”

"And what about today? Is today a bad day?"

John pursed his lips in thought. “No,” he said after a moment. “Today's a better day.”

“How so?”

“Because you're here.” He smiled at her and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Mary grinned broadly. "Really? Do I make that much of a difference?"

“Yes,” John said honestly. “We've barely known each other for a day and you already brighten up my life.”

 

“Ew,” Harry said from behind the door. “Stop being such a sap and get out here and eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

 

“Fuck off, Harry!” John shouted.

 

"Hey, it's OK. Your brother has a point. Let's get dressed before breakfast gets cold."

John grumbled the entire time it took them to get dressed. He pulled on a clean t-shirt and fresh pants before stepping into his yoga bottoms. He passed Mary another pair of bottoms for her to wear.

Mary slipped into them gratefully,  and slid off the bed.  She placed a hand on John's tense shoulder. "Hey, you OK?" 

“I'm just worried my brother is going to drive you away,” he grumbled. “I haven't told him about my British buddy for exactly this reason. He always finds some way of embarrassing me and driving people away from me because he thinks it's funny. Well, that's my interpretation at least.”

"I'm not going anywhere. You're not going to drive me away, nor is your dickish brother."

“I hope not” John pulled her in for a hug and kissed her hair. “Because I'd hate to lose you as a friend.”

"That's not going to happen." 

“Good.” He kissed her properly before Harry began knocking on the door incessantly.

 

“Quit sucking face and get the fuck out here!” He hollered.

 

“You're a right git, Harry!” John shouted.

“Don't cuss at me in British!” Harry laughed and opened the door. “Say it like a 'murican would.”

“Fuck off, you bastard,” John growled. “We're coming. Look. We're dressed. Now leave so we can eat.”

Mary glared at Harry, her eyes fierce. "Please just leave. Can't you take a fucking hint?" 

“Whoa.” Harry held his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry. Geez. Can't you two take a fucking joke?”

“Harry has an odd sense of humor,” John grumbled. “And he's a fucking douchbag because of it.”

"He's the kind of douchebag I kill on a regular basis."

Harry snorted. “Kill? Yeah, right.”

Mary's fingers twitched with anger. Her eyes narrowed into two thin slits. "I'd be careful if I were you. Not many people get to piss me off and live to tell the tale."

Harry laughed. “You're cute,” he said. “Come on, lovebirds. Breakfast is ready.”

"I'm going to kill him." Mary said between grit teeth. "Seriously kill him." 

“Please don't,” John whispered. “He's a dick, but he's my brother. I love him. He basically raised me. Our parents were always too busy for us. He's the only family I have.”

Mary softened slightly. "Sorry. I didn't mean it . He just…lacks respect, and I hate that.”

“He's usually not like this,” John apologised. “It's just because of how he found us.”

"That's no excuse. He should still show some respect."

“I know. And he will once we talk with him.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“I'll punch him at the very least,” John said. “Promise.”

"You're really sweet but I think I can fight my own battles."

“Did you want to punch him in the nads then?” John asked, a smirk on his lips.

"Oh yeh." She grinned. "I'm tempted to do exactly that."

“Well, you have my blessing to do so should the need arise.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Come on. Let's go eat. I'm starved.”

They exited John’s bedroom and walked in the direction of the kitchen.

"Yeh, I'm hungry too. I hope your brother can be redeemed by his cooking.”

 “Oh yeah. He's a great cook. And I fancy myself a pretty good cook as well. We had to take care of ourselves at an early age, so we started with the basics and now we're here.”

Mary sniffed the air and hummed her appreciation. "It smells so good." 

“Thanks,” Harry said, actually smiling politely at her. “You said a bacon sandwich?”

She nodded and smiled softly. "Yes please.  A bacon sandwich will keep me going all day."

Harry put a sandwich in her hands and showed her to the table. “Need any condiments on that?' he asked. 'We have pretty much everything under the sun.”

"Just some ketchup for me thanks." 

“Alright.” He got the bottle out of the fridge and passed it to her.

"Thanks." She said appreciatively and began squeezing the sauce onto her sandwich.

Harry nodded and went back to the stove. John was frying his egg, but Harry took over.

“That one's yours.” He pointed at a plate with his spatula. “Go on and sit with your girl. I'll join ya in a moment.”

“Oh. Wow. Thanks,” John mumbled. He took the plate and sat next to Mary at the table. “I don't like his cheerful mood,” he whispered to her. “It's too drastic a change in a short amount of time. He's gotta be up to something.”

"Maybe he's just being nice?"

“Harry's never nice unless he wants something out of it,” John whispered. “I don't like this.”

Mary took a tentative bite out of her sandwich. Her eyes wandered over to Harry,  watching him cautiously. 

He winked at her before he went back to cooking his own egg. John scowled. Was Harry /flirting/ with Mary? Was that what the pleasantries were about?

Mary smiled softly at Harry. He seemed alright. He was a bit of a dick but otherwise seemed incredibly polite and charming. 

John scowled at them both. Harry sat down beside Mary and smiled at her.

“So, Johnny,” he said. “Who's your new friend?”

"I'm Mary. I kinda only met John "And he charmed his way into your pants already? Good on you, Johnny.”

She frowned.   
  
"He didn't force me to do anything. What's your fucking problem?"

'Nothing. Just that you're the first girl Johnny's charmed who's actually stayed over. What story did he tell you?' He smirked over at John.

“Shut up,” John growled. “Just stop. I didn't tell her any story.”

Mary held a hand up between them before they could start a fight.   
  
"Look, stop it,  would you? Don't argue over me."

“Harry started it,” John grumbled, pouting.

“Don't be such a child,” Harry groaned, rolling his eyes.

"At least you have each other. You have no idea..." Mary trailed off, staring into blank space. 

John's bad mood melted away and was replaced with sympathy. He placed a comforting hand on Mary's shoulder and squeezed gently.

“Is she OK?” Harry asked.

“Yeh,” John whispered. “Just a bad memory.”

Mary  stood up and pushed her bacon sandwich away,  suddenly not very hungry.   
  
"I have to go."

“Mary?” John asked, concerned for her drastic change in behaviour. “Are you alright?”

"I'm fine.” She lied. "I've just gotta be somewhere else. Sorry."

She left before either of the Watson boys could question her. 

John glared at Harry. “This is your fault!” He accused him. “You're always driving away the girls I'm interested in!”

Harry shrugged.  
  
"She's weird,  John. There just ain't something right about her. You're better off without people like that, trust me."

“You don't know anything about her!” John snapped. “She's really smart and funny and she's got the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard! Fuck you, Harry! You don't know shit!”

John stood up from his chair so fast he sent it clattering to the floor. He stalked off upstairs and slammed his bedroom door shut loud enough for Harry to hear it.

Harry snorted.   
  
His brother was just plain weird these days. 

* * *

 

John dramatically threw himself on his bed, his face pressed into his pillow. It still smelled of Mary's perfume, and it made his heart ache worse. He pulled his phone off the charger and checked his messages. Nothing from Sherlock. He groaned and hid his  face in his pillow again. Why wasn't Sherlock online anymore? What was happening with him? Was he alright? His absence was starting to deeply worry John. He was beginning to wonder if something had happened to Sherlock, like his phone had been taken away or he'd been grounded or he'd run away.

Bleep bleep.

John Watson, you have one new message. :

*Go after her. *

John stared at the phone and the unknown number. He frowned and typed a quick reply.

*Who is this? How did you get this number?*

*Go after her. Take caution to the wind. There may be danger ahead. *

*Who are you? And where has she gone?*

*Names aren't important. You'll find her in the last place you look. *

John glared at the message and typed an angry reply.

*What the fuck does that mean? The last place I look? Of course she'd be there! I wouldn't go looking for her after I'd found her!*

*That was your clue. You have to find her John. I have a terrible feeling she's gotten herself into trouble. *

*I don't understand! I hate riddles! Just tell me what to do!*

*I've already told you what to do,  idiot. *

John growled and ignored the message. He slammed his phone down on his desk and pressed a pillow over his face to scream into it.

 

 


	32. Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Mycroft seeks a distraction from the loss of his baby brother through sex with Greg Lestrade. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> -Acemindpalace.

Greg was outside smoking.

"Don't tell me these will kill me," he said when he felt Mycroft's presence. "I know and I don't care. They take the edge off. And they're legal."

Mycroft wordlessly reached inside his jacket and pulled out his own cigarettes.  "Dito." 

Greg smiled over at him. "Good. Glad you think the same way.' He took a long drag and blew it out.

Mycroft knew it was horrifically bad for him, but since his brother had been missing, his smoking habit had worsened. Mycroft didn't do things by halves. He was a chain smoker; smoking one after the other in a quick succession.

Greg noted his quick smoking. Myc had gone through three before he'd even finished one. He decided to stop there and put his cigarettes and lighter back in his pocket.

"Wanna go for a walk?" He asked. "Could help clear your head."

"Walking wasn't the exercise I had in mind." Mycroft said, his voice like silk. 

Greg blushed crimson and swallowed thickly. "Um... we can walk back to my place? My flat isn't too far from here."

"I would rather bed you in my apartment on the university campus." Mycroft chuckled, the sound humourless.  

"I..." Greg swallowed again, his cheeks on fire. "OK," he whispered.

"That way I'm not the one who has to take the walk of shame."

"Oh, you bastard," Greg growled playfully. "Fine. But next time we do it at my place."

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. "Next time,  hmm?" 

"Yeah. Next time." Greg smirked a little more confidently. The alcohol was making him brave, and Mycroft wasn't bad to look at. It could be fun. "Let's get a cab and go to your then, yeah?"

Mycroft's lips twitched slightly but other than that his expression remained neutral. Before his brother had run away he'd considered a normal loving relationship with Gregory,  but right now he didn't care about having an emotional attachment to him, he just wanted rough sex with a pretty boy. Anything to make him forget the Sherlock shaped hole in his life.   
  
"Yes. Let's get you to my place,  shall we? "

Greg nodded and raised his hand to call a taxi. One stopped in front of him and he held the door open for Mycroft.

"Quite a gentleman,  I see." 

"I might have been raised in an extremely religious household to the point where I have to hide my sexuality, but I was raised with manners," Greg said.

Mycroft slid into the cab gracefully. "We all have our secrets,  Gregory." 

"Yes," he murmured. "We do." He slid in beside him,  their knees touching.

Mycroft playfully bumped his knee against Gregory's.  "Am I your dirty little secret?"

"If you'll have me," he whispered.

"Where to, boys?" The cabbie asked.

Mycroft gave the cabbie the university address before turning to Greg. "You've never so much as kissed a man,  have you? "

"Nope," he said, popping the "p."

"Hmmm." Mycroft shifted as close as he could get to Greg. "We'll soon change that. "

Greg gently pushed him away. "Not in the back of a dirty cab we won't. Patience. You'll soon have me."

"Good. As soon as you're in my bed I'm going to show you what you've been missing out on all these years. "

"Oh? So you've done this before? Sex with a man?"

"Naturally, " Mycroft lied,  though it was so convincing that Gregory looked as though he was about to have a panic attack. 

"So... So you... you're not..." He swallowed thickly, his heart pounding in his chest. "You aren't a virgin? I always thought you were."

"Certainly not, " Mycroft lied again,  just as convincingly as before. "I excel in the bedroom department." 

"Well, at least one of us does," Greg said under his breath. "Because I've got no idea what to expect or do."

"Let me do all of the hard work,  just enjoy the show. You moaning my name over and over again will be more than enough thanks." 

"O-o-okay," Greg stammered. His cheeks were burning again so he rolled down the window to let some cool air in.

" Feeling a bit hot under the collar, are we?" 

"It's your bloody fault," Greg said teasingly. He smirked over at Mycroft, his pupils dilating.

"My fault?" Mycroft asked innocently.

"Yes. Your very blatant flirting is certainly having an effect. And the fact that you're very... explicit... is certainly affecting me." He gestured to his trousers and the bulge that had formed there.

"It's affecting me too." Mycroft gestured to his heavily endowed erection. " I'm particularly large in that department. Think you'll cope? "

Greg's breath stopped in his throat as he stared at Mycroft's crotch. His dick looked huge! Would it even fit?

"I... I... I..." He stammered, unable to form a coherent thought.

Mycroft chuckled,  daring to lean in to kiss Greg's neck tenderly. "Don't be so worried. I'll be gentle to start with. " 

Greg gasped and whined softly. "OK," he whispered.

"We're here, " Mycroft murmured, his breath coming out in sharp pants.  "Come on."  
  
He threw money at the cabbie and slid out of the cab, pulling Greg by the arm eagerly. Greg followed him to his tiny on-campus apartment. He swallowed nervously as Mycroft got out his keys. They were actually going to do this.

"No need to be nervous." Mycroft reached out a hand to Greg. "You know me by now,  right? "

"Yes." He squeezed Mycroft's hand tight. "You've been my tutor for months now. I'd like to think I know you fairly well by now."

"Then, trust me. I'll take good care of you."

"OK," Greg whispered. He was still nervous. He'd never been with a man before. He'd admired them from afar for so long. Now that he was actually with one, he found he hadn't a clue what to do.

"Top or bottom?" Mycroft asked casually,   pushing the door to his apartment open. 

"Of what?" Greg asked. He followed Mycroft inside the small flat and took off his coat.

Mycroft laughed,  turning to look at Greg,  his eyebrows cocked upwards in amusement.   
  
"Top or bottom?" He asked again,  putting more emphasis on his words. 

Greg's cheeks burned a bright red as he realised what Mycroft was asking."Uh... bottom?" He said, unsure of which position he wanted to take that night.

Mycroft sauntered over to Greg,  wrapping his arms around his waist and holding him close.   
"You're blushing furiously tonight, it's quite a gorgeous look for you. "

"Th-thanks," Greg stammered. He pressed a hand to his cheek and realised how hot it was. "I... I'm not usually this nervous."

Mycroft pressed a hot kiss against Greg's pulse point. He'd seen sex in porn films,  and he knew exactly how to seduce a man into his bed.  It was time to put it into action. Greg moaned wantonly like a common whore. His knees buckled and he fell into Mycroft's arms.

Mycroft caught him,  grunting slightly with the effort.    
  
"We haven't even started sex yet. That was just a kiss."

"Sensitive," Greg managed to moan out. "I dread to think how I'll react when we kiss for real."

"If we're going to kiss you'll need to stand up. Come on." Mycroft tugged Greg up and span him around gently. "Now we can kiss. Ready?" 

"I... I think I should be by a sofa or a chair or something," Greg squeaked out.

"Now, now. Don't be like that. I'll catch you if you fall." 

"You sure? Because I may collapse in your arms. I..." Greg bit his lip. Did he really want to admit to having a crush on Mycroft? Right now? When he was slightly inebriated?

"You what,  hmm?"  
  
Mycroft's hand gradually crawled closer to Greg's crotch and he began to gently squeeze his erection.

"Ooooohh, god!" Greg moaned. He thrust into Mycroft's hand and pressed his forehead against his shoulder. "I... I've had a crush on you for a while now," he admitted. He couldn't stop now that Mycroft's hand was doing delicious things to him. "I have since you got into the habit of biting the end of your pens and pencils while we work. And I can't help but imagine you mouth on my cock and your tongue gliding across it like it does your pens."

"I've had a crush on you, too." Mycroft said in a rush.  He pulled his hand away,  earning a soft whine of complaint from Greg. The truth came tumbling out of his mouth; it was like he couldn't stop himself.   
  
"I really, really like you. You don't judge me for my intelligence or for my appearance, which,  let's face it,  has gotten rather chubby looking since university started. I blame you and all those late nights studying and eating sickening amounts of pizza. You're the kindest soul I've ever met and your hair is just gorgeous. I  just want to run my fingers through it. I sometimes lie awake at night thinking about a future with you,  which is ridiculous because I'm just going to be your dirty secret,  nothing more. There is no future. So, I don't want to kid myself,  let's leave this open as a fuck buddy's relationship,  because you'd never fall for a man like myself. " 

Greg stepped back for a moment so he could take in what Mycroft had said. He wanted a future with him? He wanted to have a steady relationship with him? And he liked his hair? He smiled to himself and then up at Mycroft.

"You're absolutely wonderful," he told him. "I had those late night study sessions so I could hang out with you without my girlfriend there to bother us. I invited you over under the pretence of studying and we would usually just end up eating pizza and watching a movie. Those are some of the best memories I have here at uni, and I've been here for almost three years already. You're one of my best friends, Mycroft. I care about you a lot. I hope we can move past just being fuck buddies, because I would honestly love to be in a relationship with you. But I'm currently dating someone, and last I heard you are too. It might not be in the cards right now, but hopefully sometime in the near future we can be together as an actual couple."

Mycroft felt his heart sink in his chest and shatter on his ribcage. He blinked away ushered tears,  hardly able to stop them. He'd never felt so emotionally unstable.   
  
"Perhaps you should have thought about that before you initiated this," he gestured to the two of them. "You should go, this is beyond morally wrong. For you anyway,  my girlfriend has left me. I have a boyfriend now. His name is Victor, but since things became strained at home I’ve been struggling to sustain our relationship. My brother..." his lower lip trembled. God. Sherlock. 

"Is he what's been bothering you all night?" Greg asked. He stepped forward to comfort his friend. He placed a hand on Mycroft's shoulder and squeezed. "What happened to him? Is he alright?"

Mycroft became completely rigid. He pushed Greg away,  hugging only made him feel more vulnerable. He already felt like he was going to burst into tears.   
  
"It's none of your business. I...I don't think I want to do this anymore. The fact is I lied to you. I'm a virgin. I don't want my first time to be with a cheat like you. I don't want it to be pointless sex either. You should just go."

Greg stepped back and wrapped his arms around himself, hurt by Mycroft's words.

"This isn't pointless sex," he choked out, a lump of emotion clogging his throat. "I want this, Mycroft, and I know you do too. I don't care that you're a virgin. Technically speaking, I am too. I've never had anal sex, only vaginal. I've been hiding for years and every year it gets harder and harder to hide who I am. I would come right out of the closet and shout to the world that I'm bisexual right now if you wanted. I don't care anymore. I mean, I sort of do, but right now in this moment I couldn't give two shits about what my father would do to me or what my friends or girlfriend might say. I can see you're going through a tough time right now, so I'll give you some space. I'm only a phone call away if you want to talk or just need some company."

Greg stepped back from Mycroft after he finished his little speech. He wiped the tears from his cheeks, unaware that he'd begun crying until that moment. He grabbed his coat off the rack and prepared to leave.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	33. Mycroft's Goldfish

"Don't go, " Mycroft said in a barely audible voice. 

Greg paused, his hand gripping his coat tight. He turned to face Mycroft, tears streaming down both their cheeks.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" He asked, his voice choked with emotion. "Tell me, right now, in this moment... what do you want?"

"I don't know what I want," Mycroft suddenly looked small and fragile. "I just know that I don't want to be alone."

"Would a cuddle on the sofa be alright with you?" Greg asked.

"You need to do one thing for me before we do anything, " Mycroft reached inside Greg's pocket and fished out his mobile. "Call it off with her. I don't want to be competing,  because I know I'd never win. " 

Greg nodded and took his phone from Mycroft. He found his girlfriend's number and dialled it. He stepped away from Mycroft so he could have some space between them whilst he gave her the news.

* * *

 

Mycroft wandered over to his bedroom and curled himself into a ball under his duvet covers. His head was spinning,  and it was suddenly extremely painful to breathe. His chest felt tight with anxiety.  He wondered if Greg was going to go through with it,  if he actually cared about him enough to become his and only his.  He also felt guilty because he and Victor were technically still together. Technically.

Twenty minutes later, Greg knocked softly on his bedroom door.

"Myc?" He called out. "It's done. May I come in?"

Mycroft felt himself relax,  letting out a long and contented sigh. He'd been working himself into a panicked state whilst waiting for Greg.   
  
"Yes," He whispered. "You can come in. "

The door opened and a soft weight pressed down beside him on the bed.

 "Mind if I join you?" Greg asked. "I'm exhausted."

Mycroft turned slowly and pressed himself closer to Greg.   
  
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forced you to end your relationship with her,  that should have been your decision,  not mine."

"It's alright," Greg murmured. "We'd only been dating two weeks. I wasn't really into the relationship and neither was she. It would have ended sooner or later."

Mycroft couldn't help himself.  He pressed his lips against Greg's lips and began to (rather sloppily)  kiss him.   
  
"Thank you. " He mumbled. 

Greg's heart stopped momentarily when Mycroft kissed him. It was pretty bad, but he didn't stop it. Instead, he held Mycroft's face in his hands and kissed him back slowly, showing him how to kiss without all the slobber.

It wasn't that Mycroft couldn't kiss, in fact he was rather talented at it. He'd practiced on his ex girlfriend just so that he could prepare for the real deal. He’d practised on Victor too, so he knew what it was like to kiss a man. Only now that it came to it he was just too damn emotional to fully pour himself into it. He hated sentiment,  and emotions had grown stale inside him.  They were just sort of there simmering beneath his surface, reminding him that Sherlock was gone,  possibly even dead. 

"Hey," Greg whispered against his lips. "You've disappeared in your head again. What's going on in there to take you away from a fantastic kiss?"

"Sorry, sorry." Mycroft murmured the apology. "It's nothing." 

"You sure you don't want to talk about it? Even hypothetically? I don't want to pressure you or anything, but it might help."

"No. It won't. Talking about it won't change how I feel.  Apologies about the kiss,  it was rather terrible. Here,  let's correct that." 

"Don't change the subject," Greg mumbled into their current kiss.

Mycroft ignored him. He poured himself into the kiss,  his lips working a frenzy against Greg's rough lips. Greg couldn't help the moan that escaped his throat. He tangled his fingers in Mycroft's thick hair and pulled him closer.

Mycroft smiled into the kiss,  his hands wandering down to Greg's thighs. He could feel a ripple of muscle beneath his fingertips. Greg was well built,  a result of frequenting the university gym on a regular basis. 

"You can touch," Greg whispered. "I won't faint this time."

"You were like a schoolgirl before," Mycroft noticed how Gregory's hands gravitated towards the meatier areas of his body.  Unlike Greg he wasn't one to frequent the gym,  but rather pastry shops instead. He smirked, pulling away slightly so he could inspect the other boy's face. "Of course. I should have known. You're a chubby chaser." 

"Shut up. I am not." He scowled and took his hands away from Mycroft's body.

Mycroft flinched like a kicked puppy. Gregory looked disgusted...he didn't want to touch him. 

"I'm not a chubby chaser,"Greg spat. "I don't like you solely because you've got some meat to ya. I like you because you're fun to be around and you're really smart and you're one of my closest friends."

"I didn't..." Mycroft sniffled before composing himself. No tears. Not now. Not here.  "Everyone has a type,  Gregory. Even when I was experimenting with women, I chose rather muscular sporty people to date. I've known you for a while now,  I've seen the type of people you chase after. I'm not blind, I'm not furious with you either. I know you enjoy my intellect, and my humour as I have a habit of making you laugh. My body and the way I look is a rather sensitive area for me. So, you have no idea how much you're hurting me right now. You don't even want to touch me. What are you so afraid of?  Admitting you have a type or getting too involved with a boy? "  
  
Gregory still looked repulsed by the idea of touching him,  his fists were clenched into tight fists.  

"This is all new to me, Mycroft," Greg said tensely."I've never been with a man, and I have no idea what I'm doing. Yes, I have a type with the girls I'd chosen to be my partners. They were full-bodied girls, some of them fit, and others looked downright anorexic. But it's different with you. I... I'm not sure why."

"So your chubby chasing only applies to me." Mycroft's features softened. "You like me with a bit of padding,  eh?" 

"I do," Greg admitted. His cheeks were burning again. "I want you to be healthy, so don't gain too much weight to make me happy. I just like you with a little softness and not so boney."

"I'll try not to, no promises though. I often stress eat,  which leads to me gaining weight. I'd rather if you don't comment on any...changes." Mycroft swallowed thickly. "I just want someone to appreciate me no matter what. Bit of an ask I suppose. "

"Well, I might not always be perfect, but I'll do my best not to make you feel uncomfortable," Greg promised. "And feel free to tell me to take you to the gym now and again if you want. Exercise is a great outlet for stress relief."

Mycroft pulled a face.   
  
"Exercise has been deemed one of the top ten most stressful things in my life. " 

"Could be different when you're with me," Greg said. "It could even be considered foreplay."

"I know you're a virgin when it comes to a sex with the opposite gender but that isn't quite how foreplay works. "

"Trust me," Greg said. "Working out with your partner can be very invigorating. Hell, even some of the positions in the Kama Sutra are a workout. Could be fun." He grinned and winked at a now beet red Mycroft.

Mycroft had to quickly think of a way of regaining control over the situation. He pressed his body against Gregory so that it was very obvious that he packed a nice round tum and fleshy thighs. Once he was certain Gregory could feel him pressing down against him he leant in closer and whispered.

"The only exercise I need involves fucking you relentlessly into my mattress. "

Greg moaned and allowed Mycroft to straddle his lap. He lied down so Mycroft was on top of him.

"Yes," he moaned. "Please. Fuck me."

"I don't think you could handle me." Mycroft sniggered down Gregory's ear. "I'm too intense."

"Bloody tease," he groaned. He sat up and nuzzled his nose along Mycroft's. "How about for our first night, we don't have penetrative sex? Neither of us are ready for it. Why don't we give each other a hand job? Like a mutual masturbation sort of thing?"

"I'm sure I'm fairly talented at that,  considering I masturbate to your voice every single day. "

Greg quirked an eyebrow at that. "Really? You know my voice well enough you can make me say anything?"

"No, but I Skype you every day,  I just rather sneakily masturbate whilst you talk.  You barely even pick up on it,  though one time you commented on how red my cheeks were becoming. "

"Oh yeah." He smiled at the memory. "I remember that. What was I even talking about at the time?"

"I'm not sure,  it's all a bit of a blur if I'm being honest."

"You were just too absorbed in the pleasure," Greg purred. He slid his hands down Mycroft's body and cupped his thick cock through his expensive trousers, squeezing enough to get it to harden just a bit more.

Mycroft hummed softly. "I've dreamed of this exact moment,  never thought it would actually happen."

"I have a few ideas but I'm fairly sure you have an active imagination. Please use it. "

"Fair enough." He stopped stroking his cock to begin taking off his clothes.

Mycroft hummed softly as Greg began to unbutton his shirt. His stomach almost sighed with relief. His shirts were a little too tight these days. He needed to visit a tailor. Greg smoothed his hands over Mycroft's belly. It was soft and jiggled in his hands. He pressed a kiss to Mycroft's jaw as his hands dipped lower and began unbuttoning his trousers.

Mycroft lifted his neck up for Gregory to kiss,  whining softly. "That's more like it.  I want your hands all over me. "

"Whatever you want," Greg purred against his neck. He nibbled along his jaw as his hands found their way into Mycroft's pants. 'Silk boxers?' he asked. "These are so fucking soft. Your cock lives in fucking luxury, doesn't it?"

"Yes, well, I've always taken care of myself down there. Wearing boxers that are rough and too tight could permanently damage me." Mycroft sniffed indignantly. 

"We certainly wouldn't want that to happen," Greg murmured. He got Mycroft's cock out of his pants and moaned at the sight of it. 'Fucking hell,' he groaned. "You weren't kidding. You're bloody huge."

"Do you like what you see? " Mycroft asked cautiously. 

"I do," Greg moaned. "God, I do."

"Good," Mycroft breathed out a sigh of relief. "In the past I've been told my cock is intimidating. "

"It is," Greg agreed. "But in the best possible way."

"I'm sorry? It's good that my cock is intimidating?"

Greg grinned up at him mischievously. "Oh, yes," he growled. "I love big, fat cocks. I'd love for you to fill me up, stretch me open until I feel like I'm going to burst. Fuck." He grabbed at his own cock through his jeans and rut into his hand. "Fuck. Yes. I can't wait to have you in me one day."

Mycroft's hips gave an involuntary buck and he moaned wantonly.  "Oh Gregory,  one day I'm going to fill you to the brim with my cock."

Greg moaned and his hand began pumping Mycroft's fat cock. "God yes," he gasped. "I want you to stretch me open and stuff me full of your cock. Full to the brim until I feel like I might burst."

Mycroft began to tremble as Greg pumped his cock and whispered dirty things into his ear. It was all too much, a hot sensation coiling in his belly telling him that any given moment he was going to find his climax. 

"C'mon, Myc," Greg moaned. "Are you gonna come for me? Yeah?" His hand pumped faster as his other fondled his bollocks. "Is this fat, juicy cock going to come all over me? Fuck. I need you to come on my face. Yes! Come for me! Come!"

Mycroft screamed in response to the stimulation  Gregory was providing.  The heat inside him boiled over and soon he was cumming all over his lover. Greg closed his eyes and savored the feeling of Mycroft's cock throbbing in his hand. Splashes of come landed on his jeans, shirt, and the bottom of his chin. He moaned in ecstasy as he milked Mycroft of every drop.

Mycroft's eyes fluttered shut. After such an intense orgasm he was exhausted and emotionally drained.  

Greg sensed his exhaustion and helped him into bed. He removed his soiled clothes and straddled Mycroft's lap.

"Don't fall asleep yet," he said huskily. His hand dipped down and grabbed his own cock, pumping it fast and hard. "I want you to watch me."

Mycroft's eyes fluttered open,  focusing on Gregory's cock. It was a beautiful sight, he breathed out in awe.   
  
"Here Gregory,  allow me. " He reached out and wrapped his pale hand around Gregory's cock. "Your manhood is quite desirable. "

Greg hummed and allowed Mycroft to take over. "Thank you," he moaned. "There's no need to be so formal. Talk dirty to me."

Mycroft chuckled, his hand moving up and down Gregory's length at a steady rhythm.   
  
"I'm afraid I don't have much practice with dirty talk,  you'll have to teach me. I'll pick it up soon enough. "

Greg chuckled but quickly gasped when Mycroft did something with his wrist.

"Fuck!" He cried. "Do that again!"

Mycroft flicked his wrist gently,  his palm pressing against a particular sensitive spot.   
  
"I'm not a man of many words,  actions however..."

Greg moaned and shivered. Mycroft's hand moved faster, driving him to the edge.

"Oh god!" He cried. "Oh my god! I'm coming! I'm coming!"

A satisfied smile spread across Mycroft's face. His hand continued to pump Gregory's cock as he came in a thick strip all over him and the sheets. Greg was shaking by the time his orgasm ended. His muscles were weak but too stiff to allow him to collapse into bed.

Mycroft wrapped him up into his arms and pulled him against his chest.    
  
"I've got you,  just close your eyes."

Greg did just that and no sooner were his eyes closed did he slump in Mycroft's arms and nearly fall asleep.

"I found my goldfish, Sherlock." Mycroft whispered, looking out of his window sadly. "And I think you'd really like him." 

Greg mumbled something unintelligible against Mycroft's neck. He fell asleep dreaming of goldfish.

Mycroft stayed awake for a little while thinking about Sherlock, but soon he fell fast asleep,  his arms still holding Greg tight. 

 


	34. Lost And Found

A month passed before Link saw the homeless boy and his dog again. The last time he'd seen the boy, he was fast asleep in the guest bed, snoring slightly. When Link had woken up the next morning, the boy had already eaten and was gone. He'd also taken his clothes and some food. Mostly bread and crackers, easily replaceable. Link held out hope that the boy would come back if he ever needed help.

And come back he did. Link returned from work one night to find his door unlocked. He crept in and heard the shower running. He looked into the sitting room and saw a very familiar Irish Setter lying on the rug.

The dog barked and trotted over to him. Link pet him and noticed his fur was mangled and dirty and he was incredibly underweight. It would seem the boy's situation hadn't gotten any better in the past month. Now even his dog was suffering. He dreaded to think how the boy looked after his month away.

It was a relief to watch a months’ worth of dirt wash off from his skin. Sherlock looked down at the muddied water with sunken eyes.   
In the past month his body had hit a growth spurt, despite the fact he'd barely eaten. He was now a thin beanpole, borderline emaciated.   
He turned off the shower when he heard footsteps. Link. He stepped out and grabbed a towel to wrap around himself. 

"Kid?" Link called out. "That you?"

Sherlock tugged the towel tighter around him. "Yeh! " He called out. "Give me a moment." 

"Mind if I feed your dog?"

"Yeh...that would be appreciated. He hasn't eaten for a while."

Link led the dog to the kitchen. He got out a large bowl and poured some kibble into it. He'd bought the bag a couple weeks ago on the off chance the boy would come back. He was glad he had. The poor dog looked absolutely emaciated.

Sherlock dried himself before heading out of the bathroom. "Do you have any clothes I can borrow? " 

"Yeah. Spare room where you were last time. I keep some spare stuff in there now." Link looked up from feeding the dog and he nearly gasped when he saw the kid. He was taller than last time and far too skinny. His hair was plastered down on his head, making him look like a drowned rat. Link frowned but knew better than to ask. Instead, he asked, "Shall I make dinner then?"

Sherlock smiled gratefully at Link. "Yes. I'm, ugh, a bit hungry I guess. " 

"OK. I'll make some pasta. You go get dressed, OK? Do your clothes need washing again?"

The young boy nodded and headed to the bedroom to get dressed.   
  
"Yeh. That'd be great, thanks Link. " 

"No problem, kid." Link let the dog eat and got out the necessary supplies to cook pasta. He set the pot on the stove so they water could boil and gathered up the boy's discarded clothes. They were filthy and torn and were probably now several sizes too large for him.

Sherlock found a pair of jeans, a dark grey hoodie, and some clean underwear waiting for him on the bed.They were slightly too big for him,  almost drowning him as he got changed into them. He didn't care, at least they were warm and clean. 

Link was in the kitchen when the boy emerged from the spare room.

"How do the clothes fit?" He asked without taking his eyes off the pot.

"They're a bit...big." Sherlock tugged at his jeans so that they weren't falling down. "I think that I might need a belt but they'll do fine. Thanks, I really appreciate you getting them me. "

Link turned to look. The poor boy was drowning in the clothes. But they were better than the ones he'd had.

"It's no problem. I might have a belt you can use. I'll go grab it." He turned to enter his bedroom and rooted through his wardrobe until he found a belt. He brought it back out to the boy and smiled softly at him.

"Here. This should keep the jeans up."

"Thanks."  
  
Sherlock took the belt and looped it through his jeans,  pulling it as tight as it would go so his jeans wouldn't fall down. 

"Better?" Link asked.

Sherlock nodded and wandered over to Redbeard,  leaning down to give him a scratch behind the ears.   
  
"Don't suppose you can look after him for me? "

"I'm not sure," Link said. "I'd have to add him to my lease. If you really want me to look after him, I will. You can come visit him anytime."

"That's the thing,  I don't think I'm going to stick around. Time to move on, I think."

"Move on?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I don't know. I never planned this.  I just started running and I don't know how to stop, or even if I want to. I just know that I need to move on. "

"May I ask how long you've been on the run?"

"Time is irrelevant." 

"Um... alright." Link didn't press further. He moved to drain the pasta and set the pot back on the stove. He poured some pasta sauce in it and heated it up for the noodles.

"I want to be a dancer, you see. I need to get away from here so I can start again. This place is killing me. "

"Oh. You dance?" Link smiled at him. "What style?"

"I'm into ballroom dancing.  None of that stupid contemporary stuff."

"Oh. That sounds... elegant." Link smiled at him. "It suits you."

Sherlock twirled around gracefully. "I like to think I'm a talented dancer, mummy always thought so."

Link smiled at him as he twirled. "Dancing suits you."

"Which is why I need to leave here,  before my dancing days are over. "

"Did you need a ride anywhere? I could drop you off at the train station?"

"Yes. I don't know where I'm going, though I guess that's the point of starting again." 

"Yeah. I hope you find what you're looking for, kid."

“Yeh, me too. I hope I can finally find my feet somewhere.  I just want a place where I belong. "

"Well, I wish you the best of luck."

"You too.You're applying for a higher position at the restaurant you work for. "

Link blinked. "I... I am. How did you know that?"

" Sometimes I can tell things about people,  you know? It's an art form I'm trying to perfect. I call it the science of deduction."

"Oh?" Link smiled at him. "Sounds fascinating."

They pasta was finally cooked, so Link set the table and offered the boy a seat.

Sherlock took a seat,  smiling appreciatively as Link. "Cheers. Smells good."

"Thanks." Link smiled at the kid and dished up a plate of the pasta. "Let me know who it tastes. The position you said you knew I was applying for? It's for being one of the chefs. So let me know if my cooking skills are up to par."

Sherlock nodded and began to eat the pasta slowly. He hummed.  "It's good. "

"Yeah? Thanks." Link ate some and hummed. "Yeah. Good. Glad to know my skills are still there."

"You'll do well, I know you will Link. You've got a good future ahead of you. "

"Wow. Thanks, kid. I hope you've got a good future ahead of you too."

"I doubt it."

"If you're going to be a dancer, your future could be very prosperous. You'd be much better off than you are now."

"Perhaps. But who knows where my future lies? " 

"Well, whatever the universe has in store for you, make sure it's good." Link smiled at him warmly. Redbeard finished eating his own meal and trotted over to Sherlock. He rested his head on his knee and looked up at him with sad eyes.

Sherlock sighed sadly and scratched the poor dog behind the ear. "I'm sorry boy. I don't want to leave you but I can't take you with me."

"I'll take good care of him," Link said. "I promise. You can come and get him after you've established yourself if you want."

" If I ever settle down somewhere. I'll try and save up for a little apartment that we can live in. "

"Good for you, kid." Link smiled at him warmly. "I wish you the best of luck."

Sherlock smiled and ate another bite of pasta. "I'll come back and visit,  see how he's doing. I'll miss him."

"And I'm sure he'll miss you." Link looked at the dog and smiled sadly. "He can already tell you're planning to leave."

"It's for his own good. I can't take good care of him. I can barely care for myself. "

"Yeah. I, um... I couldn't help but notice." Link pushed the pot of pasta closer to him. "Eat all you can stomach. Please. You need to eat."

"I know, " Sherlock sighed heavily. "But food costs a bomb these days."

"Yeah. I know." Link smiled at him sadly. He stood up and cleaned off his plate. "You stay here and eat. I'll go wash your clothes. And you can sleep in the guest room again."

Sherlock chewed on a piece of pasta and hummed. "I don't suppose you've seen any news announcements about me on the telly? "

"Um... no. Why?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Just thought my parents might have made a statement about me being missing.”

"Oh. I'm surprised they haven't yet. That's rather cruel of them not to."

Sherlock shrugged. "I don't really care. I just thought they would. "

"Regardless, it speaks poorly on their part for not trying to look for you."

"They might be looking for me, who knows? I hope they're looking for me."

"I hope they are too," Link said softly. "Perhaps you're too far from home and their search hasn't reached this area yet?"

"Perhaps. I honestly don't know how far away I am from home. I needed to get out of that environment and so I did. "

Link nodded solemnly. "Yeah. I've been there before. Sometimes you just need a break. Or, in your case, an entire fresh start."

"Part of me feels as though I'm being rather cruel towards my family. Am I in the wrong? "

"I don't think I'm the right person to tell you that," Link said. "You could maybe call them? Or someone you trust? You can use my phone if you don't want to use yours."

"I've thought about calling my brother,  but I'm not really sure..." Sherlock frowned. 

"You could call and let him know he doesn't need to worry," Link suggested. "Were you and he close?"

Sherlock shrugged. "We had our good days,  we had our bad days. We were just like all brothers, I suppose. "

"And do you think he's worried about you?"

"Without a doubt.  He's probably working himself into a frenzy over my disappearance."

"Perhaps you should call him then. Set his mind at ease," Link suggested. "Feel free to use my landline."

"Cheers," Sherlock chewed on another piece of pasta before pushing the bowl away. "I can't eat any more. I'm full. "

Link nodded and didn't push him to eat more. He knew all too well that trying to feed someone too much after they'd been starving would only make them sick. So he picked up the boy's bowl and the pot and put them into a dish to store in the fridge.

Sherlock shifted awkwardly and looked towards the landline. "May I have a bit of privacy? "

"Of course. I'll go put your clothes in the wash. You can take the phone into the spare bedroom if you need to."

Sherlock smiled gratefully and walked over to the phone. He picked it up and retreated to the spare room.   
  
He dialled his brother's number and waited with baited breath. 

 

 

 


	35. Calling Brother Dearest

Mycroft felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID and frowned at the unknown number. He quietly left his lecture to answer it. It could be important.

"Hello?" He said, a hint of a question in his voice.

"How's the diet? "  
  
A bit of a weird sentence to start with but Sherlock didn't know how he was supposed to start such a conversation. 

Mycroft froze, his breath catching in his throat.

"Sh-Sh-Sherlock?" He stammered.

"Hello, brother dear.”

"Oh my god!" Mycroft cried, his body suddenly working again. He jumped around in the hallway before he had to sit down before his legs gave out on him. "Oh my god! You're alive!"

A strange half sob half choked noise escaped Sherlock. "Yes, I'm alive My."

"Oh my god!" Mycroft sobbed loudly on the other end of the line. "You're alive! You're OK! I thought... I thought you..." He couldn't speak for a moment he was crying so hard. Other who passed him in the hall gave him weird looks, but he didn't care.

"This is just a phone call to say I'm alive. I'm going to go now...This isn't my phone so I shouldn't take too long talking to you. "

"What?! No!" Mycroft cried. "You can't just call me after months of nothing! Tell me that you're alright! Is Redbeard with you? Is he alright? Please come home, Lock. I miss you so much! This is all my fault!" He began sobbing again.

"I'm OK. Redbeard's with me. He’s fine. I'm not coming home. This is not your fault." Sherlock answered in a rush. 

"Why won't you come home?" Mycroft cried. "We miss you! Mummy is devastated and refuses to leave the house! Father has fixed things at work and he's working regular hours again. We need you, Sherlock. Me more than most."

"I'm sorry, but I can't return. I was too unhappy there, Mycroft. I have the chance to start afresh." 

"I know. Will you at least tell me where you are right now?" 

"You're the smart one. You always made that very clear. Think."

"Well, I can't text you seeing as your phone can probably be traced. Though you've probably fixed that by now. I'll think of something." A thought crossed Mycroft's mind and he chewed on his bottom lip. "Have you spoken to your Skype friend lately?" He asked, his voice soft.

"No." Sherlock paused in contemplation. "I sent him a skip code, but he won't understand. He's too ordinary. He thinks I'm safe. I've ensured that he'll get over me,  with the help of a girl sailing the same boat as me.  She's running. I'm running. And John is...fair game as they say. "

"So, you sent someone over to him to keep him company? Are you in contact with the girl?"

"Yes, I am. I need to know John's happy. She reports back to me when she can. The arrangement suits both our needs."

"Could you pass along her contact information? I just want to be sure she's... suitable."

"No. I won't do that to her. Besides, it doesn't concern you."

Mycroft sighed and let it go. But he still worried about the girl Sherlock had chosen.

"Fine. I won't press the matter. I'll set up an account for you and I'll get you an untraceable phone. I'll send it and your account information to you when you've settled."

"Thank you. And you won't tell anybody? You won't tell mummy,  or dad,  or even the boy you're sleeping with. You can't. "

"How did you--?"

"I merely observe. "

"How? Have you been watching me?"

"I have eyes and ears everywhere. "

"You're becoming very well-connected, Sherlock. I'm impressed."

"Don't be. The people I'm connected with aren't all good people. "

"And you think my connections are all good people?" Mycroft countered. "Part of going into government work is making deals with risky people."

"I guess we're both fucked."

"Yes, I suppose we are." Mycroft sighed and wrapped an arm around his waist. "You take care of yourself, alright, Lock? I'll set up a bank account for you and send you the information when you next contact me. You will need money to survive on your own. I... I love you, and I miss you so much."

“I love you, too. I'll talk to you soon. Don't worry about me. Just be happy. Be a fucking normal teenager. Fuck, eat junk food,  drink." 

"Well, I already do two of those, so I think I'm fine." He chuckled half-heartedly. "Take care of yourself, Lock. And tell the man you're staying with I said thank you for looking after you. I wish I had been a better brother. Maybe then you wouldn't have run away."

"This hasn't got anything to do with you. Don't blame yourself. "

"Sherlock, I am always going to blame myself for your running away. You're my little brother, and I'm supposed to look out for you. And I failed. I've failed horribly."

"You haven't failed me. Mummy and father did that all by themselves. "

"Sherlock, Mummy didn't get pregnant to replace you. You could never be replaced. Why do you think we would want to get rid of you?"

"I was a tiny blip in their lives. Tiny. They practically forgot that I was a part of their lives. "

"That is not true! It's not! They love you and miss you! Mummy is grieving because she believes you to be dead!"

"It's too late.  I can't forgive them for how they made me feel."

"I hope you come to change your mind one day,'" Mycroft said softly. " I just got a text from Mummy. She had a scan today, and she's having a girl. We're going to have a baby sister."

Sherlock snorted. "What does its gender matter?"

Mycroft hung up before he could say something stupid. He clutched his phone tight and curled up against himself as he cried. Why did Sherlock have to be such an enormous dick? They were getting a sister! A beautiful baby sister! And he didn't care! Why was he such an asshole?

"My?" Sherlock whispered. "My? I'm sorry. Please... oh never mind. You're never going to help me now. "

Redbeard whined and rested his head on Sherlock's lap.

"Shhh boy. It's OK. I'm sure he won't abandon me completely. "

He whined again and licked at Sherlock's fingers.

"What's wrong boy? Why are you so sad? "

He just looked up at his boy with sad eyes. He knew he was planning on leaving and that he wouldn't be coming back.

"I'll come back for you. I promise. " 

Redbeard seemed to accept it. He curled up in a ball on the rug and promptly fell asleep.

Sherlock bent down and scratched the sleeping dog behind the ears gently.   
  
"Sorry. " He whispered. "I'm really sorry. I wanted to look after you but I can't. I can't even look after myself. "

 

 


	36. The Name Is Sherlock Holmes

Link gently knocked on the door to the spare room he was in.

"Hey, kid? Your stuff's out of the wash," he told him. "You doing OK?"

"I'm...I'm OK. When can we leave for the train station? "

"Is tomorrow morning alright?"

Sherlock nodded solemnly.    
  
"Yes, I need to sleep anyway." 

"Alright. You get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

The door closed with a loud creak and Sherlock fell back onto the bed with a choked sob. 

Link left the clothes outside the door. He left the kid alone for the rest of the afternoon. He decided to go out to the shops and find him some better fitting clothes. If he was going to become a dancer, he would need something more professional to wear than his tattered clothing.

* * *

 

Sherlock awoke in the morning to the smell of bacon. He hummed and rolled out of bed.  Link was waiting in the kitchen for him. 

"Good morning," he said jovially. "Did you sleep alright?"

"I slept as well as expected." Sherlock said,  clicking his neck.  "I mean, I don't sleep too much these days."

Link hummed and nodded. 'Yeah. I can understand that. Here. Sit. I made bacon, toast, and eggs.'

"Smells good." Sherlock hummed,  sitting down to eat the food set in front of him.

Redbeard trotted out of the bedroom and went over to the bowl of dog kibble Link had set out for him.

“Thank you for looking out for us." Sherlock paused cautiously. "Who did you lose? " 

"I'm sorry?'"Link looked up from the eggs he was currently cooking. 

"Who died? Who did you lose? I know guilt when I see it. You're trying to redeem yourself. "

"I..." Link looked down at the frying eggs and sighed. "My sister ran away from home when she was 16. I was almost 14 at the time. Unlike you, she didn't survive. She got mugged and was stabbed in the gut. We didn't hear of her death until she'd been missing for two months. By then, her body was barely recognizable. I still don't fully understand why she ran away. Was it to be with a boy, or did she just need to escape the house? We'll never know."

He sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Anyway, she isn't why I'm helping you. Well, partly, but not the main reason. I'm not doing this to redeem myself for my sister's loss. I'm doing this because if she had had someone help her, maybe she wouldn't be dead. And I don't want you to end up like her; left for dead in some alley where you aren't found for weeks."

Sherlock stood slowly,  pushing away his plate. He reached up a hand to brush away Link's tears.   
  
"I'm sorry for your loss, Link. I shouldn't have asked. My curiosity got the better of me, I guess. "

"It's fine," he murmured. "You're fine. I haven't thought about her in a while." He gently clasped the boy's hands in his and squeezed them.

"Promise me something," he whispered. "Promise me that you'll make something of yourself. That you won't give up."

Sherlock practically leapt at Link.  His arms wrapped around the older boy tightly,  his hands shaking as he squeezed the living daylights out of him.     
  
"I promise. I promise. I promise. I promise..." 

Link hugged him back, holding him as tight as he dared.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Sherlock pulled back slightly. "I owe you so much. You're a good man. How do I thank you? "

"Just make something of yourself. Don't waste your second chance."

"I won't. I promise. I'll become a dancer. I'll make something of myself. "

"Good. Hold onto that dream. Sometimes it'll be all you have." He pulled him in for another hug. "Don't give up."

"What am I giving up from exactly? "

"Your dreams to be a dancer. Sorry. Was I being too vague again? I tend to do that."

"No. It just sounded a lot, I don’t know,  darker than giving up my dreams of being a dancer. "

"Well... don't give up on that front either." He smoothed a hand through the boy's hair and hugged him close. "Don't give up on anything."

"I've thought about it. Course I have. Then I found you. I'd say you're my guardian angel, only I'm not religious. "

"I'm not either. But I do believe in guardian angels. If I'm yours, it was an honour to save you."

Sherlock buried his face in Link's neck and sniffled sadly, nuzzling the man to try and comfort him.

"Hey," he whispered. "It's alright." He pet the boy's hair to soothe him. "It's OK."

"I'm trying to convince myself that.”

"You'll be alright, kid," Link assured him. "You can call me anytime, day or night. Save emergencies for my mobile seeing as I always have that on me."

"OK. I might call you once I've found a place to settle. "

"Good. Please do that. I'd like to know you're alright."

"What's your number?" 

Link pulled away so he could wrote his numbers on a piece of paper.

"This one is my mobile," he said, pointing to the first number. "And this one is my landline." He pointed to the second number. "Call me at anytime."

"It's nice to know I have someone I can rely on. My brother is reliable, so long as I'm in his good books,  and from the way he hung up on me I'm guessing I'm not in his good books. "

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that, kid." Link furrowed his brow and frowned. "I feel odd calling you "kid" all the time. Are you ever going to tell me your name?"

Sherlock sniffled, nodding slowly.    
  
"I'm Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. "

Nice to meet you, Sherlock Holmes.' Link smiled gently at him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm sure.” Sherlock smirked smugly. 

"It is." Link laughed and shook his head. "Why don't you go back to your plate and eat your breakfast. Then I have a few things to give you."

"Things?" Sherlock blinked in surprise. "What kind of things? "

"They're surprises. Now eat. I'll go fetch them."

Sherlock cautiously sat down to eat the remaining food on his plate. His eyes remained on Link, even as he left the room. 

 

 

 


	37. Tiny Dancer

Link went to his bedroom to grab the new clothes he'd bought the boy. Sherlock. His name was Sherlock. What an interesting name.

He brought the bags out to the kitchen where Sherlock was almost done with his food.

Sherlock stared at Link intensely as he ate the last bit of bacon. His eyes bugged a little when he saw the bags.   
  
"What's this about?"

"Well, you can't very well go about becoming a dancer looking like you just came in off the street. So, I went out and got you a few things.'"He handed Sherlock the bags so he could inspect the clothes inside.

Sherlock began tearing into the bags,  inspecting what appeared to be very expensive clothes.    
  
"Oh my God...Link...these must have cost a fortune. You can't afford these. "

"Do you think they'll fit?" Link asked, ignoring Sherlock's question about the prices. "I took a guess on your measurements. Though they can easily be hemmed by a tailor if they aren't right."

"They look like they'll fit. You have a good eye. Should have gone into the fashion industry instead. Thank you, thank you, thank you. " 

"You're very welcome, Sherlock." He grinned warmly and his shoulders sagged in relief. "I'm so happy you like them."

Sherlock moved to hug Link once again. His body pressed up against the older boy. "How can I thank you?" He asked again. "I want to thank you now. " 

"I told you," Link whispered. He hugged Sherlock back just as tight, holding him close so he would feel safe. "Just make something of yourself. Don't waste your life."

"What if I waste it trying to become a dancer? " 

"Is becoming a dancer your dream?" Link asked. "Is that what you want to do with your life?"

"Yes. More than anything." 

"Then if you're always working to achieve that dream, you won't be wasting your life." He smiled down at the boy and squeezed him gently in his arms. "Make your dream a reality."

"I will. I swear. I think I need to prove myself. I need to know I'm good enough. "

"Good. You go out there and prove to yourself that you're good enough to become a dancer. And, if you ever need some encouragement, feel free to call me."

"One day I'll repay your kindness, I promise. "

"You don't have to," Link told him. "Don't feel obligated to repay me. You shouldn't feel like you owe me a debt."

"I do. I don't think you realise how much this means to me." 

Link sighed and shook his head, a soft smile on his face. "If you must. But don't worry about it for a while. Wait until you're settled first. Don't worry about me. Just focus on becoming a dancer."

"One day you'll need help and on that day all you have to do is call my name and I'll be there. That's a promise. For now I'm going to dance. " 

Link chuckled and nodded. "Good. Keep reaching for that and never let go." He turned back to the stove when he smelled his eggs beginning to burn. "What time did you want to leave for the station?"

"As soon as possible.  I want an early start if I'm to find somewhere to stay before night falls. "

"Of course. Do you want more to eat before you leave? Feel free to eat as much as you need. I can always buy more food."

Sherlock shook his head.   
  
"I know I'm in a bad way, but there's no need to force food on me.

"Oh. Sorry. I just... Sorry. I'll leave you alone. Why don't you go get dressed? See how the clothes fit?"

"Yes, thanks. I'll do that."  
  
Sherlock, feeling awkward,  retreated to the spare room. 

Link smacked a hand over his face and groaned. He felt like he'd just insulted the poor kid, and he probably had. He turned back to the stove to take his eggs off the heat and put them onto a plate. He sat down and started to eat solemnly. 

* * *

 

Sherlock tried not to dwell on the feeling of his ribs jutting out as he got changed. The clothes were wonderful.

Link was in his room getting dressed when he heard a soft knock.

"Come in,"he said. "I'm decent."

"Um..." Sherlock opened the door and peered inside. "Want to see how I look in my new clothes? "

"Oh! Yes, yes. Come in." He quickly slid a shirt on over his shoulders and turned to look at Sherlock. 

"What do you think?"

"You look like a very dapper young man."

Indeed he did. Sherlock was wearing the black two-piece suit with the dark purple button-down. He looked like he could be taken seriously as a dancer and not just a punk from the streets.

"They're just the right size,  though I think they have a bit of growing room. That's...um...good. "

"Good. I hope they fit you for a while."He smiled softly. "You look good, kid."

"I used to be quite well off, you know. Back home I had suits for special occasions,  but if my father has his way he'll sell them all off to repay his gambling debts. I think this is my favourite suit of all. I love the button down shirt. It's a lovely shade. "

"It looks great on you," Link said. "I figured you'd be more of a dark hued man. The colour really compliments you."

"Purple has always been my favourite colour,  after TARDIS blue of course. "

"Oh? You're a Whovian as well?" Link laughed and shook his head. "I knew I should have picked up that deep blue shirt. I'll have to grab it the next time I go out. I'll send it to you."

"Really? " Sherlock grinned. "Thank you. That would be wonderful. "

"Yeah. Maybe it can be a present for when you get your first dancing class or a job as a background dancer."

Sherlock's eyes brightened. " You really think I can make it into a professional dancing class? "

"Of course. Would you maybe show me what you already know? I haven't seen you in action yet."

"I can show you." Sherlock held out his hand. "If you'll be my partner, that is. "

"Oh. Sure." He quickly buttoned his shirt before taking Sherlock's hand. "I'll follow your lead."

Sherlock stepped closer to Link and began to very slowly take the lead. He hummed a soft tune for them to dance to.   
  
 "Some say it's all about the rhythm,  but they're wrong. In order for a dance to be truly brilliant, the two people dancing need to be in sinc with each other, there needs to be a connection that they can both feel."

Link hummed along to the song and nodded. Sherlock's logic was sound. Once he picked up on how Sherlock moved, the dance changed drastically. Not in how it was performed, but how it felt.

Sherlock was now tall enough to rest his head on Link's shoulder.  “I find that when I'm dancing everything just falls away, all my worries go. I'm free, like a feather drifting through the wind. "

Link hummed in agreement. "I can feel that," he murmured. "It's a really nice feeling."

"I wish things were different, you know." Sherlock mumbled into Link's neck.

"Yeah? I can understand that. You don't belong on the street. You should be in a ballroom or on a stage."

"I'm a long way off from achieving my dream, I wonder if I'll ever fulfill it? If I do, I want you to have front row tickets to watch me dance. "

"Of course. I'd love to watch you dance like a real dancer. I'd be honoured to attend your first show."

" I wonder if I'm good enough to make it. I sometimes wonder...no...never mind. Forget it. " 

“You can tell me,' Link murmured. "You can trust me. We're sort of friends, right?"

"We're friends. " Sherlock assured him. "But what I was going to say, is a bit personal,  hence why I stopped myself from saying it. "

"Ah. OK. You don't have to tell me if you don't want."

Sherlock nuzzled Link gently. “Thank you for being so understanding. "

Link hummed and held Sherlock a little closer. "No problem, kid," he murmured. "We should probably head out soon. Don't want to miss the train."

"No." Sherlock pulled back, licking his lips in contemplation. "No. We don't want to miss it. Come on. "

Link swallowed audibly and nodded. He shooed Sherlock from the room so he could pack his stuff. He himself finished getting dressed while he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened between them.

* * *

 

Sherlock's heart was pounding in his chest. He felt oddly aroused around Link all of a sudden. It probably hadn't been a good idea to dance with him.  After all he wasn't bad looking,  and he was so incredibly kind...  
  
He swallowed, shaking his head. Link was 22, the age gap was too wide. If only things were different...  
  
He quickly changed back into his other clothes, trying to occupy his mind by packing his bag.

Link and Redbeard were waiting for him when he came out. Redbeard whined and ran over to Sherlock, nuzzling him and licking him where he could.Sherlock avoided eye contact with Link. He bent down and began to fuss Redbeard,trying to distract himself from how tense the atmosphere had become. 

Redbeard licked him all over his face, whining loudly.

"He knows you aren't taking him with you," Link said softly.

Sherlock glanced up at Link briefly.  "I, uh, yeh.  I'll come back for him though. I'll...miss...him." 

"And I know he'll miss you. I promise to take good care of him while you're gone." He smiled softly at the boy and his dog. "What's his name again? I feel like you told me, but I can't remember."

“Redbeard.”

"Ah. Yes. That seems familiar." Link knelt down and scratched the dog behind his ear. "Redbeard," he murmured. "I promise to take excellent care of you so you'll be healthy and strong when Sherlock comes back for you. He  _will_  come back, boy. Don't you worry. He'll come back."

"Yeh..." Sherlock swallowed thickly. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier. I don't want things to become awkward between us,  especially as you're my friend."

"You're fine, Sherlock. It's fine. It happens sometimes." He scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat. "Shall we head out then?"

"It happens...sometimes?" Sherlock murmured, voice dripping with hurt. 

"Oh, god. I said it wrong." Link slapped a hand over his face again and groaned. "I didn't mean... I'm not... I don't know what I meant by that. I'm sorry."

"If I wasn't a minor...would you...you know?" 

"Be with you? Perhaps. But I wouldn't want you to feel obligated to be with me because of how I've helped you. I don't want you to feel like you owe me something as huge as that."

"I don't...it's not that. I just wish I had someone on that level. I had John but he lives in America. It's not the same." 

"Oh. So you've sort of got a boyfriend then?"

"Not really. He's not my boyfriend. I always thought a boyfriend is...There for you. He doesn't even realise I'm on the streets of London. "

"But I bet he's worried about you. You probably haven't talked to him seeing as you only just charged your phone here last night in god knows how long."

"Maybe, but that doesn't change anything. He's still in America. I'm here. He...he can't be there for me. Can't kiss me or hold me. I am alone. "

Link frowned and pulled Sherlock in for a hug before he could think about it. He just held the boy close so he would feel safe and wanted in his arms.

Sherlock shivered in Link's embrace. "Link...I...I don't feel so alone when I'm with you. "

"Good. That's good. That's how I had hoped you'd feel. If you've got at least one friend in this world, you'll be alright. And I'm glad I'm able to make you feel safe."

"Thank you for this." Sherlock whispered. "For everything. You're...great. Just great. More than great. Fantastic. I, uh, you know what I mean. " 

"Yes," he murmured. "I know what you mean.' He squeezed him tight before he let go. 'We really should leave now. I don't want you to miss your train."

"God.  Where should I go? Where does one go when they want to dance?  I don't...have a plan. "

"Hrm. Perhaps we can figure that out on the way. You can search for studios on my phone whilst I drive to the station."

"I can't just turn up at a studio and expect them to take me on. I need to build up a reputation first. "

"Take classes at a dance studio," Link suggested. "Don't audition for anything just yet. Take some classes to show them your skills."

"Perhaps I should just focus on actually staying alive first?"

"Yeah. Get yourself settled first. Find somewhere you want to dance and try and stay in that area."

"I'll text you once I'm settled, yeh? "

"Yeah. Definitely do that. Keep me updated."

"I will, I promise. I'll try and text you once a week."

"Good. And don't be afraid to call me if you need to."

"I'm not afraid. I'm actually quite brave. "

"Good. Hold onto that bravery. It'll come in handy as you make your way up the dancer ranks."

"You make me sound like a soldier."

"Well, I hear the dancing world can be pretty brutal. Especially if you want to go into ballet. So just stay strong and don't let the fuckers drag you down."

"I don't care if people think I'm a poofter. I probably am." 

"Well, I'm bisexual and I don't let anyone question if I'm confused or not. If they do, I usually just kiss them. That shuts them up."

Sherlock swallowed thickly, his eyes flicking down to Link's lips. "You're bisexual? "

Link smirked. "Yes. Why? Are you trying to get me to kiss you?"

"I might be. It depends. Is it working?" 

Link smirked and hummed. "Perhaps I'll give you a big smooch goodbye at the station."

"What if I want a kiss now?" Sherlock asked,  feeling a little braver. "What if I say pretty please? "

Link bit his lip in thought. "You're very hard to say no to," he said after a moment. "Alright. Fine. One kiss, but then we need to leave."

Sherlock could feel his heart racing in his chest. He'd never been kissed before. He hadn't even considered that Link would humour him. He licked his lips and pulled back from the older boy, trying to deduce what kind of kisser Link was. 

Link kept one arm around Sherlock's waist as his other smoothed his long locks out of his face. He smiled softly at him as he pulled him close. His hand settled on Sherlock's neck and he gently squeezed to reassure him he was in good hands. He leant forward until their lips were almost touching, giving Sherlock the option to back out if he wanted.

Sherlock didn't want to back out. He wanted to be kissesd,touched, caressed. He practically lunged himself at Link, their lips connecting with a soft smack. 

"Oh!" Link gasped. He hadn't expected Sherlock to be so... eager. It took him a moment to kiss back, and when he did he felt Sherlock shudder in his arms.

 

 


	38. The Virgin

Sherlock wasn't used to the sensation of being kissed. He hadn't expected the sparks of pleasure and he couldn't get enough of it. He tried to deepen the kiss but Link seemed to tense up. He frowned. Perhaps he was doing it wrong? 

Link pulled away to catch his breath. He held Sherlock tight so he wouldn't try to kiss him again so soon. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. His forehead naturally rested against Sherlock's and he felt the boy's breath against his cheek.

"We need to go," he whispered. "The train won't wait."

"There will be more trains." Sherlock's frown deepened and he sniffled pathetically. "I did it wrong,  didn't I? That was my first kiss...I'm sorry. I must have sucked. " 

"You were fine," Link assured him. "You were just a bit more... enthusiastic than I was expecting. Typical for a first kiss. Though you weren't that bad given it was your first one."

"I'm sorry...I just want you to actually like me I guess. Can I try again? I'll go slower this time,  I promise. "

"Like you? But I already like you." Link smiled softly at him. "We can definitely try again. I wouldn't mind."

"Yes, but...do you /like/ me? Do I look, as many would put it,  fuckable?"

Link froze and blinked rapidly. Sherlock wanted to have sex with him? When had his feelings progressed to that level? Was he even ready to have sex? Were either of them?

"Um..." he said after a long moment of tense silence. "Look... Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now. I like you, I do, and if the circumstances were right, sure, I'd sleep with you. But neither of us is ready for that right now. We both need to focus on our careers, and having a relationship in the mix just won't work right now. I *do* like you, Sherlock, but the timing isn't right at this moment in time."

"Oh." Sherlock swallowed. "I...I'm sorry. How stupid of me. How could a man like you possibly even want to be with a boy like me? Ridiculous. "

"What do you mean, a man like me?" Link's brow furrowed in confusion. "What kind of man do you think I am?"

Sherlock shrugged and looked away from Link,  unshed tears starting to shine in his eyes.   
  
"I don't know what I mean... ignore that comment." 

Link frowned and gently touched his fingers to Sherlock's cheek. "Do you think I won't sleep with you because you're homeless?" He asked, his voice soft.

"Homeless, a boy, not good enough, you name it. I'm hardly a prize catch. " 

"And you think I am simply because I have a job and a dingy flat?"

"Because you're good and kind. You have a heart. Unlike me."

Link frowned. "Who made you feel like you don't have a heart?"

"I just know I don't. I'm heartless. Cruel. Worthless."

"You aren't any of those things. And you especially aren't cruel. If you were cruel, would you have sacrificed your own health over Redbeard's just to make sure he got something to eat?"

"I'm heartless, " Sherlock repeated.  "Every night I dream of my mum losing her baby, so I can fit back into the picture. I'm a monster." 

"Your mum's pregnant?" Link frowned deeply. "While you're right that you dreaming of your sibling dying is cruel, unless you act on it yourself it doesn't make you heartless."

"Why do you think I ran away? If I was around her I'd...I'd kill her. "

"No, you wouldn't," Link assured him. "You don't seem the murderous type. C'mere." He held his arms open so Sherlock could fold himself into his arms if he wanted.

Sherlock accepted Link's warm embrace,  burying his head against older boy's neck. 

Link hugged him close and nuzzled his hair. 'You're going to be alright, Sherlock,' he whispered. "I'm here for you, whenever you may need me."

"I need you now. I need your lips. Your body. I need all of you." 

"Now certainly isn't the right time for everything, Sherlock," Link murmured. "But I'd be more than happy to snog the hell out of you."

"Way to fuggin reject me. Might as well humour me,  hmm?"

"Shhh." Link pressed a finger to Sherlock's lips and leant in close. "It's not a total rejection. Let's just see where this snog takes us, shall we?" He gently pulled his finger down Sherlock's lips, dragging it along his plush bottom lip. He stepped in a little closer and pulled Sherlock in for an almost bruising kiss.

Sherlock gasped, freezing up for a brief moment before pouring himself into the kiss. He pressed his body hot and hard against Link and began to gently rut as he nipped and licked at the older boy's lips.

"Shit," Link moaned. He held Sherlock tight against him and felt the beginnings of an erection not only along his stomach but in his own pants. They stumbled backward until Link had Sherlock pressed against a wall. The kiss deepened and their rutting gained speed and more purpose.

Sherlock lunged for Link's plush arse and gave it a tight squeeze.  He pressed his erection hard against him. "Bed." He ordered. "Now." 

"Y-yes," Link whimpered. They stumbled into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind them so Redbeard wouldn't interrupt them. They tore at each other's clothes and they were soon naked in Link's bed.

Sherlock stared into Link's eyes,  his heart pounding in his chest. "Where...do we go from here? "

Link pulled back so he could look Sherlock in the eyes. He looked nervous and scared as hell. His entire body was trembling and his eyes were wide with something akin to fear inside them.

"Have you never done this before?" He asked, a small frown pulling at his lips.

Sherlock shook his head. He looked at Link with big, doe eyes. "No. You're the first person I've...done anything with. " 

Link's frown deepened and he sat up on his haunches to look down at Sherlock. "How old are you?" He asked.

"How old do I look?" Sherlock asked softly, continuing to stare intensely at Link.

"Younger than I think you look," he answered cryptically. He took in the boy's gangly form, his protruding ribs and hip bones, and his flushed cock. The kid couldn't be older than fifteen. Sixteen at the most. Did he really want "taking a minor's virginity" on his conscience? He himself hadn't lost his until he was eighteen.

"I'm fourteen; fifteen in a few months." 

"Ah," was all Link said. He was still pondering if he really wanted to do this. If he did, would he just be giving in to Sherlock's needs so he would feel more 'grown up' ? Or was it because he was beginning to care deeply for him and he wanted this too?

"Link...I truly like you. In a world of bad things you're my good thing. Does that make sense? You make my life a little less bleak."

Link couldn't help but smile. "Yeah," he whispered. "I understand. But, before we do this, I just want you to know it might hurt and you might not be able to bend over or sit down properly for a few days afterward. That's what happened with me anyway."

"Then let me top, I can't afford a wrecked arse."

"I... Are you sure? I don't want you to do something you're not comfortable with."

"I'd much rather top than bottom. I think I'd like that,  taking control of you, learning to fuck by exploring that delicious body of yours. "

"Oh." Link blushed and licked his lips. His own cock throbbed excitedly at the prospect."OK. But why don't I open myself up this first time? Just to get things started."

"OK," Sherlock agreed. 

Link grinned mischievously. He crawled over to his bedside table and pulled out lube and condoms.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "You come prepared,  I see. Have you had many conquests?"

"Not particularly. But it's nice to have supplies should someone actually stay the night." He passed him a condom. "Put that on. It'll help you last longer. Given it's your first time, you might not last long at all. Just a heads up."

"I've masturbated before, " Sherlock said with a shrug as he rolled the condom over his cock. 

"Masturbation has nothing on sex," Link told him. "Trust me. You'll practically blow your load as soon as your head's inside me."

Sherlock flushed bright red. "This is the kind of stuff my brother should have taught me, not how the earth goes round the sun." 

"Your brother probably didn't think you'd be having sex at only fourteen," Link pointed out. He laid back on the pillows beside Sherlock, his knees drawn up and the lube in his hand. "You OK though?"

"I'm good...a little apprehensive, but ultimately I'm good. I feel ready.  Who knows. Maybe I can become a boy slut like my brother. Apparently he's very good. "

"You don't have to do that." Link frowned. "Sex isn't the be all and end all of everything."

"Who says I don't want to be a slut? " Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Saves you from getting your heart broken,  less commitment,  and all the sex. My brother is. Moves onto one person after another, course,  I'm not sure he enjoyed vaginal sex. Oh god. I'm talking to much,  aren't I? " 

"Just a bit." Link smiled at him softly. "But you do know a slut is just a social construct that society made up so they could shame women for being sexually active? Men who have a ton of sex are just being men, not sluts. Apparently there is no such thing as a 'man slut'. Only women can be sluts. And that's some fucked up shit.'

"Bulshit. Men are sluts. Trust me. The guys back at school, all they did was sleep around. Now it's my turn. " 

"You don't have to follow the crowd, Sherlock. You can be different. You can be better than that. You don't have to give in and be like everyone else. That's boring. Be your own person."

"I've been different for my entire life. I tried to be Sherlock Holmes. At first they thought it was endearing,  my family that is,  but then as I got older they told me to stop. It was suddenly...abnormal. It wasn't funny anymore. Except,  I didn't know how to stop.  I don't want to be outside the crowd anymore. "

"Then what do you want to do?" Link asked.

"I want to fuck,  drink,  smoke.  I want to go out to parties,  dance and meet pretty people. Is that so wrong? "

"No. It means you're a normal teenager who wants to experience all life has to offer." He smiled softly at him. "Still want to fuck me then?"

"Definitely, " Sherlock grinned. "I definitely want to fuck you. "

"Alright. Do you want to watch me or help me open myself up?"

"I'll happily watch you prepare yourself. Put on a show. You have a beautiful arse. "

"Thank you." Link sat back and planted his feet flat on the bed. His fingers skimmed down his stomach and down between the cleft of his arse, teasing himself.

Sherlock watched with fascination. "I," he licked his lips. "think you're beautiful." 

"Yeah?" Link's breath hitched as his fingers finally found his hole. He pressed against it until his first fingertip slid inside. "Fuck," he moaned.

"Fuck indeed..." Sherlock's breath caught in his throat. He'd only seen such a sight through watching porn. 

Link groaned as he pressed his finger a bit deeper. He was starting to pant as his heart rate sped up with his increasing arousal. His cock was beginning to thicken as well, nestled on his belly.

Sherlock reached out and stroked Link's cock cautiously. He wasn't sure what was OK to do and what wasn't.  "How's this? "

"Fuck, that feels good," Link moaned. He spread his knees a little wider so Sherlock would have more room for movement. "Keep doing that."

Sherlock stroked Link's cock from root to base,  his thumb circling the very tip of the bright pink organ,  brushing over a bead of precum. 

Link moaned loudly and shoved a second finger up his arse. "Fucking hell, kid. Don't stop."

Sherlock moaned and began to move his hand a little faster.  "You're gorgeous, Link. "

Link moaned loudly and thrust his hips into Sherlock's hand.

"Oh god. Oh god. Don't stop!"

"You're going to cum too early." Sherlock pouted. "Not fair. "

He whimpered when Sherlock took his hand away. He continued to open himself up and soon he was fucking himself with three fingers.

Sherlock was practically drewling at the sight. Link was so beautiful, so open,  and for this one moment he was all his. Wait till he told Mycroft about his...rather intimate adventures. His brother was going to flip. 

"Oh my god," Link moaned when he grazed his prostate. "I need you inside me. Right now. Fuck! I need your cock!"

Sherlock flushed bright red and moved so that his cock was pressed against Link's open entrance. He grabbed Link's shoulder and very cautiously began to push inside.

"Oh, shit," the older boy groaned. "Fuck. You... you're bigger than I thought."

"I might not be long but I make up for it in width." 

"God! Fuck! Yes you do!" He gasped as Sherlock bottomed out, the widest part of his cock settled comfortably inside him. His whole body trembled as he fought not to come."Oh god," he whimpered.

Sherlock was also trying to fight back the urge to cum. He barely moved,  still adjusting to being inside Link. It was a strange sort of pleasure and warmth that was both a shock and a blessing. 

"Can... Can you move yet?" Link asked breathlessly.

"I... I don't want to cum yet." Sherlock groaned softly. "I already feel so deliciously close and I've barely done anything. "

"Squeeze the base of your cock," Link advised. "It'll help you hold out."

Sherlock nodded and very slowly followed Link's instructions. He gasped softly, squeezing his cock, teasing himself."Oh. My. God."  
  
He began to thrust into the older boy,  with no sign of mercy or stopping. It was fast and hard and hot. Above all else it should have felt wrong.

He had labelled himself as asexual, but maybe he was demisexual? Or perhaps there wasn’t a certain box Sherlock fitted into. Maybe he was just Sherlock Holmes.

"Oh shit!" Link cried. He braced himself against the headboard as Sherlock pounded into him. "Oh my god! Yes! Yes! Fuck!"

Sherlock reached out to the headboard and he gripped it tight as he made his pace even more relentless. He slammed into Link. The bed shook and tiny flakes of paint began to fall from the wall as the bed made an impact with it. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!"Link screamed as Sherlock fucked him hard and without mercy. His legs shook as he was fucked so hard he saw stars. One of his hands reached for his cock and pumped it fast and hard to try and match Sherlock's thrusts.

Sherlock screamed as he found his release. He came thick and fast and collapsed on top of Link,  panting for breath. 

Link gasped and his entire body shook as he too came. He spurt between their bellies, coating them in the sticky substance. He groaned in relief and collapsed back on his bed, a satisfying smile on his face.

Sherlock began to snore. His young body was exhausted after such a passionate act of fucking.

Link let him sleep. First times were usually exhausting. The kid would need his rest. He slid out from under him and turned Sherlock over so he could take the condom off and bin it. He went to the loo to clean himself up and put on a loose t-shirt and some pyjama bottoms. When he opened his bedroom door, Redbeard was lying on the floor in front of it.

"Oh. Hello." Link flushed scarlet with embarrassment. "Were you there the whole time?"

Redbeard barked in response and gently licked Link's fingertips. 

"Oh, you poor thing." Link chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry about all the noise. Your boy is fine. Promise. He's just sleeping now."

Redbeard cocked his head to one side and for a moment he seemed to actually smile.  He liked the tall human.  

Link smiled at him and scratched him behind the ears. 'Wanna go outside for a bit, boy?' he asked. 'You probably haven't been outside to do any business yet today.'

Redbeard barked in agreement and trotted to the door. His tail thumped against the ground with happiness and he pawed at the door,  keen to get out. 

Link pulled on a shirt and some shoes. He grabbed his keys and left Sherlock a note should he wake up while he was gone. He then grabbed Redbeard's leash and they were on their way.

*Took dog for walk. Be back soon. ~L*

 


	39. Holmes The Common Whore

Sherlock woke around midday. From the silence in the flat he guessed Link had popped out for a bit. He smiled at the thought of Link and their dirty escapade earlier. His cock perked up just at the thought of fucking the older boy into oblivion. It stood on end like a saluting soldier,  precum dripping from the tip even without any stimulation.

* * *

 

Link and Redbeard returned an hour later. They'd taken a walk down to a local pet supply shop and had picked up some treats and toys. Redbeard had a squeaky monkey toy in his mouth and his tail was wagging happily.

"Link, is that you?" A sultry voice called from inside the bedroom. 

"Yep!" Link called out. "You finally awake?"

"Why don't you come and see for yourself?" 

Link perked up when he heard the seductiveness in Sherlock's tone. He grinned mischievously and immediately headed into the bedroom.

"Hel-lo,"he purred when he saw Sherlock.

Sherlock's breath hitched when Link walked in.   
  
"The things I want to do to you..." 

"Jesus Christ," he moaned when he saw the state Sherlock was in. "How long have you been that hard?"

"Too long, " Sherlock breathed out. "Come here. Now." 

"Jesus, kid." Link tore off his clothes and sat on Sherlock's lap. "You could have called. I had my mobile."

"What was I supposed to say? I'm really quite hard right now and it's all your fault?"  

"Yes! I would have come straight over so you could fuck me again." He grabbed another condom from the drawer and slid it on Sherlock. 'I assume that's what you want to do? Fuck me into the mattress again?'

Sherlock's eyes shone with mischief. " Perhaps...I have a few ideas of what I want to do with you. "

"Oh?" Link purred. "What did you have in mind?"

"I want you to ride me. " Sherlock reached for his phone.  It had charged over night. Its Google history contained a variety of racy pictures of couples in various positions. 

"God, yes," Link moaned. "Oh. I see you've been doing research. What else did you find that you want to try?"

"Just that for now. Slow and steady wins the race after all." Sherlock traced his thumb over Link's thigh. 

"Quite true," the older boy murmured. He scootched forward so his bum was in position over Sherlock's cock. "You'll have to tell me what else you want to try when this round is over."

"I have a train to catch after this, but I'll be sure to pay visits to you. That is...if you're interested in pursuing a relationship with me."

"Oh." Link frowned slightly, his hopes dashed. "OK. Yeah. I'm up for it. But, maybe I could come visit you? That way you can save your money for more important things, like clothes and food."

"You sure? I probably won't have a stable place to live for a while."  

"All the more reason for you to save your money," Link said. 

"But where will we fuck? I won't have a proper bed. "

"We don't always have to have sex when I visit. I can come and see how you're doing and maybe bring you some things to help you along as you try to find somewhere to stay. If we want to have a conjugal visit, text me and we'll meet here."

"Or I might just turn up when you're least expecting it....might jump you and fuck you where you stand. "

Link whimpered and moaned. He grabbed the lube and drizzled it on Sherlock's cock. He warmed it up by wanking Sherlock a bit, moaning whilst he did so.

"If only my parents knew what a dirty little boy you've turned me into." Sherlock whispered lustfully, his eyes dark with want.

Link frowned. "Can we not talk about your parents in the bedroom, please? I want to feel the sexy kind of dirty, not the filthy kind of dirty."

"But you are filthy, you're depraved. I'm  fourteen, and look at me, fucking your arse into oblivion."

Link looked down at Sherlock's achingly hard cock and frowned. "Yeah," he mumbled. "But I don't want to feel bad about it. And right now I do."

"You shouldn't. I like your filthy side,  you make me feel good about myself. "

"I do?" He asked.

Sherlock nodded. "I love being here with you.  You are the one good constant in my life. "

Link smiled softly at him and knelt down to give him a kiss.

"That was...nice." Sherlock whispered against Link's lips. "I apparently love kissing. "

"Kissing is wonderful," he murmured. "I like kissing you too."

"Then kiss me again; never stop kissing me." 

Link hummed and began to kiss him again. He gently rut against him, his arse teasing the head of Sherlock's cock.

"Oh god." Sherlock moaned loudly. "What are you doing to me? I can't think straight when you're around. "

Link moaned and nibbled Sherlock's ear. "Fuck me," he whispered as he licked the shell of his ear. "Fuck me until I can't walk straight."

"Make me. Put on a show. "

"You got it," Link purred. He sat back, teasing Sherlock's cock with his arse as he did so. He moaned deeply and teased his own cock and balls with his fingers.

“Fucking hell.”

Link whined and took his cock in his hand. "Oh god," he moaned. His thighs trembled as he stroked himself. "Fuck. Yes. Yes."

"I want you to fuck yourself on my cock." Sherlock ordered,  his voice a needy whisper. 

"Yes, yes," Link moaned. He held Sherlock's cock steady and lowered himself down onto it. "Oh, fuck," he hissed. "Oh my god. Feels so good."

Being inside Link was on Sherlock's list of top ten spectacular things he had done in his life so far. It was hot and tight and amazing. "Fuck,  Link." 

Link sat fully on Sherlock's cock, sucking him in deep. He whimpered and whined and his thighs trembled as his prostate was brushed against.

"Oh god, Sherlock," he moaned. "Fuck me."

Sherlock didn't need persuading.  He began fucking Link with no mercy,  hitting his prostate with precision.  Sex was just a science – and he happened to excel in science. He found himself vowing that he would become a scientific expert on the human body by the time he had finished with Link.

"Ah! Yes! Fuck!" Link screamed. "Shit, Sherlock! Oh my god!"

Link cried out as his cock spurt all over Sherlock's belly. His thighs trembled as he fought to stay upright as Sherlock continued to fuck him.

Sherlock chased his release, crying out in ecstasy as he climaxed, cumming deep inside Link. 

"Yes, yes, yes!" Link cried. "Fuck! Fill me up! Oh god!"

"I'm going to fill you up until you beg for mercy. " Sherlock growled,  continuing to cum.

"Oh fuck. Oh Jesus Christ. Fuck!" Link screamed as Sherlock filled him to the brim. When there wasn't anymore room, his cum began to leak out of the condom and onto Sherlock's thighs.

Sherlock let out a satisfied groan. "Well, that was...stimulating." 

"Yes," Link agreed breathlessly. "It certainly was."

“Another round?”

"Can we break for food first?" Link asked. "I don't know about you, but I rather worked up an appetite."

“I’m hungry. However, if I am going to complete my research on the scientific art of sex then I am in need of another round, which will help me calculate far more accurate results.”

"Food first," Link said. "It'll bring your energy up for more fucking."

Sherlock whined and rocked his hips upwards. "I still have plenty of energy." 

Link groaned and pushed himself off Sherlock's cock.

"We're both too sensitive to start something right now. Can we please eat something? We can go right back to fucking afterward. Promise."

Sherlock whined and pressed a bruising kiss to Link's lips. "Why eat when we can just snog? "

"Because I need fuel for sex and so do you." Link pushed himself away from Sherlock and stood up. "Now are you going to join me for some naked lunch or not?"

"Naked lunch? " Sherlock seemed to perk up. "I like the sound of that. "

"I thought you might." He smirked and hauled Sherlock to his feet. "Bin that condom and wash your hands first. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Sherlock binned the condom and ran a hand along his sensitive cock, groaning as his palm came away with cum. He washed his hands in Link's bathroom and headed into the kitchen, grinning wickedly at Link's plush arse. 

 

 

 


	40. Rough Kitchen Play

Link was grabbing things out of his cupboards when he felt Sherlock's presence. He grinned wickedly and reached for something off the very top shelf, stretching himself and standing on his tiptoes so his cock was visible between his legs.

"Here. Let me give you a hand."

Sherlock grasped Link's cock and squeezed it teasingly. 

"Ung. Fuck," he moaned. He braced himself against the counter and wriggled a bit.

Sherlock pressed himself against Link. His cock was already beginning to stir. 

"Feel that? "

"Ung! Yes!" Link moaned.

"I want you to feel my cock up against you, even when I'm gone. I want to you to constantly think of me."

"God, yes," he moaned. He turned around to capture Sherlock's lips in a passionate kiss.

"What. " Kiss. "Happened. " Kiss. "To being too sensitive?" 

"Still am." Kiss. "Just needed." Kiss. "To kiss you."

" Are my lips that gorgeous?" Sherlock asked in a low voice.  "We could spend the whole afternoon kissing, if you want.”

"Kissing mixed with sex," Link murmured. "We can kiss while we eat too."

"Hmm. I'm sure that'll make eating far more interesting. "

"Eat in between kisses?" Link suggested.

Sherlock sniggered. "You can hardly contain your thoughts, can you?"

"Sex will do that," he murmured. "And you're also really cute."

"I am, huh?" Sherlock grinned. "What's my cutest attribute? "

"Your nose," Link said without hesitation. He pressed a kiss to the tip of it.

"My nose? What about my nose?" 

"It's cute," Link giggled. "And it looks good on your face."

"A good job too. I'm rather attached to it."

"And you've got a cute bum," he said cheekily, pinching one of his cheeks.

"Mmm. I'm attached to that too. Very attached."

"And this." Link's hand slid down to Sherlock's cock. "I rather like this."

"Oh fuck." Sherlock groaned softly. "You're such a tease."

"Thank you,"

He gave him a quick squeeze before letting him go. "What do you want for lunch? Is pasta alright?"

"Pasta is fine. I'm not fussy."

"Alright. I'll make spaghetti. Go sit and enjoy the show."

"Oh, I plan to. Believe me." 

Link went about preparing the spaghetti. He filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove to boil. In the meantime, he gathered the pasta, sauce, some tomatoes to chop, and some ground beef to make meatballs with.

Sherlock watched Link with dark eyes. He was gorgeous,  so fleshy and well muscled. He was like a walking piece of art.  His  cold, blue eyes calculated and registered every miniscule movement of Link’s muscles. He stored the information away for later use.

Link added the pasta to the pot when it began to boil. As it cooked, he went about making the meatballs.

“You have no idea how your body affects me. It’s quite remarkable, Link.”

Link peered over at him and grinned when he saw his erection. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea," he murmured.

"What are you going to do about it? "

Link smirked and shrugged. He turned back to the tomatoes he was chopping, ignoring Sherlock's cock for the time being.

Sherlock pouted. "If you don't do something right this instant, I'll have no other choice but to take care of myself. “

"Go ahead," he said nonchalantly. "I'd actually like to watch."

Sherlock huffed and his pout deepened. "It won't be the same. "

"Then tease yourself until I can suck you off," Link purred.

"Now, that I can do." Sherlock grasped his cock in his hand gently and began to work himself up his entire length. 

Link hummed appreciatively at the sight. He resumed his cooking so the meatballs wouldn't burn.

"It's not so much fun if you're not watching me..."

Link smirked and turned to watch him. "Better?"

"Oh god, " Sherlock moaned. His cock gave a shudder,  already dripping with pre cum. 

"Your cock seems jealous of my hand." Sherlock noted, eyeing Link up.

"Yes. Because it's on your prick and not mine." 

"There's one way we can fix that." Sherlock grinned. "Come here." 

Link looked back to the stove and bit his lip. He didn't want the food to burn, but he also wanted Sherlock's hand on his cock. His cock won, and he made his way over to the boy.

Sherlock pressed a kiss to Link's lips. "Here,  lend me a hand?" 

"Only if you'll lend me yours," he purred.

"And what if I don't?" 

"Then you won't get to fuck me again later."

"Is that a threat?" Sherlock growled.

"It is." Link stared back at him, daring him to do something about it.

Sherlock very slowly clamped his hand around Link's impatient cock.  He gave it a light, playful squeeze.   
  
"Challenge accepted."

Link moaned and lightly thrust into his hand. "God, that feels amazing."

"Tell me how you feel.  Describe it to me. In detail."

"I... you... fuck." Link grabbed the back of Sherlock's chair to steady himself as he thrust into his hand. "Your hand is so soft and warm. It's so smooth, apart from the calluses I can feel on your fingers. It feels so good. Gah! Fuck!"

"I play the violin, you know. I have very talented fingers." 

"Ugh! God, yes! A musician's hands! Fuck me!" Link rut into Sherlock's hand faster, his cock throbbing in his hand.

"Want me to fuck you on the kitchen surface?" Sherlock growled."Would you like that? " He was new to the whole sex business, but years of studying his brother's advances to boy's meant that he at least had a rough idea of how to act, in order to provide pleasure to both parties.

"Yes, yes, yes,"Link whined. "Please. Bend me over and fuck me. C-condom first."

"I'm clean," Sherlock assured Link. "And so are you." He nudged him towards the work surface. "Bend over. Now. "

Link moaned and quickly went over to the counter and bent over, sticking his arse out for Sherlock.

Sherlock grabbed Link's plump thighs and slowly pushed himself inside the older boy's open entrance. Sex was far more addictive than he had first thought. He pressed his face against Link's neck, his breaths ragged and hot as his lips connected with skin.  

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," Link moaned. "Yessss. Your dick feels so good."

"Your arse is pretty." Sherlock groaned,  licking a long strip up Link's neck. "And you taste good.”

Link shuddered and moaned softly. "Do I really? I bet you'd like the taste of my cock more."

Sherlock groaned in agreement. "Perhaps.  But I'm quite satisfied with how things are right now. I feel very powerful."

"God, yes," Link moaned. "Fuck. Feels so good."

"I'm so much younger than you and yet I'm the one who's in charge of this relationship. Isn't that right?" Sherlock pressed himself further inside Link,  brushing past his sensitive prostate. 

"Y-yes!" Link cried. "Oh god, yes!"

"I'm going to fuck you on this surface until you cum screaming my name."

"Yes!" Link cried. "God! Fuck! Fuck me!"

Sherlock pulled out slightly before slamming back into Link forcefully. He groaned and thrust back his head.   
  
"I'll fuck you, alright." 

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," Link moaned over and over as Sherlock began to slam into him.

Sherlock fucked Link into oblivion, fast and without mercy. He only paused to nip a long trail of love bites down his neck. They were the kind of marks that Mycroft got when he’d been kissing pretty boys.   
  
"Something for you to remember me by." 

Link moaned wantonly in reply. He was so blissed out he couldn't even talk.

Sherlock continued to leave bright red teeth marks in Link's neck as he fucked him senseless, the older boy's body banging against the work surface with the force of his thrusts. 

"Sh-Sh-Sherlock!" Link cried. "Ah! Ah! C-careful!"

Sherlock was completely oblivious to Link's cries. He was too busy chasing his orgasm. Fuck. He could feel it building in his gut. Any minute now...

"Sherlock!" Link screamed. He pushed himself away from the counter, only to be shoved back down. He groaned in pain as he was pounded against the surface again and again, tender bruises forming on his thighs.

Sherlock threw back his head and let out a strangled gasp. His orgasm washed over him like a thick wave of treacle and knocked the air out of him. He practically collapsed against his lover, his fingernails still piercing Link’s skin.

Link pushed him away and steadied himself against the counter. His legs hurt so bad he could barely stand. He sunk to the floor, Sherlock's semen dripping out of him and onto the linoleum. He didn't care. He just needed to be off his feet.

Sherlock grunted and sank to the floor too. Sluggishly, he crawled up to Link and began kissing his full lips tenderly, his fingers grazing over the trail of bright red marks he had left behind.   
  
"Thank you." He murmured. 

Link barely kissed him back. He hurt everywhere, but his legs hurt the most. He whined and tried to touch them, but they were too sore and sensitive. He'd need a bath most likely.

"What's wrong? " Sherlock mumbled between kisses. "Didn't you like it?"

"My legs hurt," Link whined. "I need a bath."

"Oh." Sherlock frowned. "I hurt you...you didn't enjoy it at all."

"No," Link murmured. "I enjoyed it. I just... my legs got bruised against the counter is all. Help me into the bath? We can cuddle in there if you want."

Sherlock grabbed Link's hand and hauled him up. "Come on you. I'll take good care of you."

Link winced as they made their way to the bathroom. His arse stung a little from the brutal fucking, but he liked that kind of pain. His legs, however, were a different story. He stumbled all the way to the bathroom, his muscles trembling as he tried to remain upright. When they finally made it, he plopped down on the loo and sighed as his legs were given relief.

"I'm sorry I hurt you." Sherlock murmured, rubbing Link's legs gently. "Perhaps fucking in the kitchen wasn't such a good idea....shit! The cooking! It's probably burning!”

"Go turn everything off. It'll be fine for now."

Sherlock nodded and pecked a kiss on Link's lips before running into the kitchen to stop everything from burning. 

 


	41. Young Master Holmes

Link managed to plug the drain in the tub and got some warm water flowing into it. He dipped his hand under the stream and held it over his legs to let the water drip onto his bruises. He hissed slightly, but the water did add some relief.

Sherlock switched everything off and removed the pan from the top of the oven. He then hurried back into the bathroom to take care of Link. He’d read somewhere that after care was more important than the act of sex itself, especially after rough sex.

“Help me in?" Link asked when Sherlock returned. "I don't trust myself not to slip and fall right now."

"Wouldn't want that on top of your injuries. Sorry about that by the way, I'm new to all this. I'm not sure what's OK and what isn't."  
  
Sherlock wandered over to the bath and guided Link down into the water. 

Link cried out as his bruises were submerged in the water. He clung to Sherlock as he was lowered into the bath, his legs shaking.

Sherlock frowned deeply.   
  
"I...I've really hurt you. I'm so sorry. So incredibly sorry."

"You're--"a hiss escaped. "You're fine,"

"Are you sure? You don't sound fine."

"I just need to relax is all," he murmured. "I'll be fine. Promise."

"I wasn't too rough? " Sherlock asked softly. "You can tell me if I was."

"No. The sex was fantastic. I'm just not a fan of the bruises on my thighs."

"So...you like it a bit rough?"

Link hummed and nodded. "I love it. In case you couldn't tell, I'm a natural submissive. I love being dominated in bed."

"So..." Sherlock began to smirk. "I did good? "

"Very good," Link purred.

"I'll be more careful next time though. I hate that I hurt you. I can't bear it."

"Maybe next time we shouldn't fuck against a hard surface," Link suggested. "I actually rather like being restrained."

"I rather liked that too." Sherlock hummed in agreement. "You looked delicious. I never thought I'd say that about someone. Sex was never on my agenda, however, no one informed me that sex was quite this fun.”

Link hummed and nestled back against Sherlock's chest. "You're a pretty fantastic lover already," he murmured. "Best shag I've had in ages."

"Really?” Sherlock asked, shocked. "But I'm so young. Probably your youngest, right?"

"Yes, but I've also been dominated by people well into their 40s. I really don't mind the age gap. I just minded that I was your first, and I was worried if you'd even like it."

"Oh, I do, believe me. I perhaps wouldn't enjoy it if we switched positions. I much prefer the actual act of fucking,  rather than getting fucked." 

"Your opinion may change once you get a nice, fat cock up your arse." Link chuckled. "Though maybe experiment with your own fingers first to see if you like it. Then, if you do, try using a dildo."

Sherlock flushed. "That...sounds uncomfortable."

"It's just a suggestion. You don't have to. Some people are bottoms, some are tops, and some are both."

"I think I'm a top. I just don't see myself being a bottom. I'm not the submissive kind."

"You can top from the bottom," Link informed him. "You can still be the dom when being penetrated."

"Yes, but there's definitely a loss of control in that situation.  I hate having a loss of control. That's why I ran away." 

Link shook his head and frowned slightly. "I'd nearly forgotten you're a runaway," he murmured. "I suppose it's because I already think of you as a dancer."

"I'm both. I'm a runaway and I'm a dancer."

"And a dom. Let's not forget about that." He smiled up at him. 

"I'm many things." Sherlock grinned. "As I'm sure you'll find out."

Link hummed and rested back against him as close as he could get. "I can't wait."

"Oh yeh?" Sherlock's grin widened. "Sounds like our relationship could be permanent thing." 

"I wouldn't mind,' he murmured. "If you're OK with it, that is."

Sherlock nodded and wrapped his arms around Link tight. "I rather like the idea of us being together."

The older boy hummed and settled back against Sherlock's chest. "I do too," he murmured.

"People won't like it. My brother will have a heart attack when he finds out."

"He doesn't have to find out," Link said. "No one does. This can be our little secret if you want."

"Lie to everyone? Pretend that we're just close friends? But that won't do. I don't want to be your dirty secret."

"Who said anything about dirty? You'll be my kinky secret." He smirked playfully at him.

"The age gap does make it kinda kinky, eh?" Sherlock mused. 

Link hummed and nodded. "Very," he purred. He shifted in Sherlock's lap so he could feel his cock between his buttocks. He hummed and began to slowly rut against him.

Sherlock groaned softly. "I don't want to be your secret forever. As delightful as this is," and God is it fucking delightful, he thought. " I like the idea of having a very open book relationship. Maybe when I'm eighteen?"

"Yes. Seeing as it's illegal to have a relationship with anyone under 18, I think that sounds like a good plan."

"How do you feel, fucking illegally?" Sherlock asked in a sultry voice. "Does it make you feel dirty? "

Link moaned and nodded. "Yes," he whispered. "Such a dirty boy. I should be punished."

"Mmm. Indeed. I'll get around to thinking of a nice punishment but I think I need to clean you up first."

"As you wish, sir," Link purred.

Sherlock blinked in surprise. "Sir?" 

"You're my dom, are you not?" Link asked innocently. "You deserve a title."

"Sir makes me sound like a soldier..."

Link pursed his lips in thought. "How about... Master?"

Sherlock's eyes lit up."Master. Hmm...I like it." 

Link hummed. "I thought you might," he purred. "Now, Master, what will my punishment be for having sex with a minor?"

"More sex. I'm sorry. I know it's a punishment that is quite unbearable, but it has to be done. You must be punished for such a dirty sinful thing. "

"Yes, Master," Link moaned. "I've been such a dirty, dirty boy."

Sherlock pushed himself onto Link's lap,  their erections pressed against each other hard and wanting. 

Link moaned and bit his lip. "Oh, Master."

"And what do I call you? I'm your master. You're my...slave. You'll do as I demand. " 

Link shook his head. "I have my preferences just as you have yours. I don't like being called a slave. It makes it sound as if I have no personal freedom whatsoever. I much prefer being called a slut."

"Slut? But doesn't that imply you sleep around? " 

"Not if I'm your slut. Then it just means I like having a lot of sex with you."

"My slut, are you? My greedy boy slut. "

Link moaned and nodded. "Yes, Master. Your greedy little cock slut."

"Do you want my cock, slut? Do you? "

"Yes!" Link cried. "Yes, Master! Please! I want your cock inside me!"

Sherlock leapt at Link,  with a splash of water, and began attacking his lips.  All the while he aligned his cock with Link's entrance, and began to push inside. 

Link gasped and moaned. He parted his knees as much as the bath would allow, which wasn't much. He instead gripped his knees and pulled them toward his chest, spreading himself open for Sherlock.

Sherlock pushed himself inside and shuddered. His lips continued to furiously attack Link with a vengeance.  

Link panted and groaned into Sherlock's mouth. He was still so sensitive from their last round, and, given he hadn't cum last time due to the pain in his legs, he was on the edge of bliss in no time.

"Ah! Ah! Master! I... I'm gonna cum!"

Sherlock growled in response and began pounding Link harder and faster,  driving him over the edge and engraining his lovers reactions into the back of his mind. 

"Oh fuck! Oh god! Yes! Shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Link screamed as he came. He threw his head back and moaned Sherlock's name as his eyes began to roll back in his head and his vision began to black out.

* * *

 

The next thing he knew, he was alone in the bath, lying comfortably in a fresh batch of warm water. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes.

"Lock?" He mumbled.

"Twenty minutes." Sherlock stated in a quiet, almost guilty voice. "You were out of it for twenty minutes exactly. " 

"Oh. Wow. I've never blacked out for that long before." He ran a hand through his hair and smiled at the boy. "Don't look so guilty. I'm fine. Promise."

"I was worried. I have a tendency to break things. I though perhaps something had gone wrong with my calculations.”

“Mmm. Well, you don't have to worry. I'm fine. And I don't break easily.”

"You blacked out for twenty whole minutes! Of course you're not fine! "

"Sherlock." He sat up in the bath and reached out for the boy's hands. "I'm fine. Really. Blacking out during an orgasm is a good thing. Trust me. It means I was experiencing so much pleasure my mind had to shut down to process it all. I'm fine. Really."

"It really scared me. I don't want you doing that again. I know you're not fragile,  or whatever,  but it still scared me. I'm not a doctor. What if you were to become seriously ill? I can't call an ambulance because then the police would be able to track me down. As I'm a minor they would force me into an environment that is not only unhealthy but unsafe. So please, don’t pass out on me like that.  What if I'd left you?  What if you'd drowned?"

Link reached forward to take Sherlock's face in his hands. He ran his thumbs soothingly over his cheekbones.

"I promise not to black out on you again so you won't have to be put in such a hazardous position," he said soothingly.

"Sex can't kill a man, I know. However, I was still worried for your safety." 

"No. Not unless he's murdered during the act. Or has a heart attack. Death by sex." Link chuckled softly. "Sorry. Bad joke."

"It reminds me of an episode of House. A boy got sick after a round of rough sex.”

"I think I remember that one." He smiled at the kid and kissed his cheek. "Help me out of the bath? I'd like to get dressed."

Sherlock nodded and held out a hand for Link to grab.  
  
"Think we can postpone my train ride for another couple of days? "

"Yeah. I think we can." He took the offered hand and stood up.

"Good, because I don't want to go yet."

"Alright." He pulled him in for a soft kiss. "The extra time may help you prepare a bit more for where you want to go."

"You have to work tomorrow,  don't you?  Perhaps I can use the opportunity to get my head wrapped around things."

"Yeah. I go in at 10 a.m. I won't be back until around five. Think you'll be alright here by yourself for that long?"

"Of course. I'm not a child. " 

"Right. Sorry. Ignore me," Link said dismissively. "I'm being an idiot."

"We're both idiots. "

"Hmmm. So I suppose we'll be idiots together, yeh?"

"Idiots in love. "

Link blinked. "Love?" he said. "You love me?"

"No...I...it's just a saying. "

"Oh." Link wasn't sure if his shoulders slumped in relief or disappointment. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. "Well... alright. Um... help me to the bedroom so I can get dressed?"

Link wrapped an arm around Sherlock's shoulders as he was lead to the bedroom.

"Are you OK?" Sherlock eyed Link warily. “You seem...conflicted." 

"Yeah. I'm fine," he mumbled. "Just feel a bit faint is all. Blood sugar is low."

"So, it's nothing to do with what I said?" 

"No." He shook his head. "I'm just hungry. We were going to eat, and then that wonderful fucking happened, and then the... the blackout. I haven't eaten since this morning."

"Oh." Sherlock bit his lip. "Want me to get you something to eat? "

"We can finish cooking the spaghetti," he suggested.

"That is if it hasn't been destroyed already. " 

"You turned everything off, right?"

"Right, but by that point the spaghetti was starting to burn. " 

"You can always make another pot. It doesn't take long for noodles to cook."

"I suppose so,  but I am a terrible cook." 

'I'll help. Cooking is just science. It's easy.'

"A science, you say? "

"Yes. Why?"

"I'm good at science.  Why aren't I good at cooking? "

"Maybe because you never thought of it as a science before?" Link suggested.

"Perhaps," Sherlock mused. "I thought it was a nuisance. " 

"Well, maybe now you know it's a science, you can be perfect at it."

"I'm perfect at a lot of things."

"As I've noticed." Link smirked and spanked his own arse.

Sherlock flushed bright red. "Do you mean fucking? "

"That's precisely what I mean," he purred.

"I'd hardly call myself a perfect fucker, seeing as until I met you I wasn't doing much of that particular activity. "

"Well, you're a natural." He pecked him on the cheek. "Come on. I need food. I'll show you how to cook."

"I look forward to your lessons. If you can teach me to fuck you can teach me how to cook. "

"I sure can. I'm a fantastic teacher." He smirked and winked. "Come on. Let's go."

Sherlock nodded and grabbed hold of Link's hand tight.    
  
"You know what I said earlier? I didn't mean it, but I may mean those words one day. "

'About loving me?' Link asked.

Sherlock nodded.  
  
"Yeh...about that." 

"Hey.'"Link squeezed his hand. "It's OK. No need to be embarrassed. I feel like I could fall for you as well. Though I may not say it until you're legal."

Sherlock nodded. "How about we agree to refrain from saying those words until I'm eighteen? "

"Agreed." He squeezed his hand again as if to seal the deal.

Sherlock was led into the kitchen by Link. Everything was just as they'd left it. Pans,  pots placed on the hub, and uncooked pasta waiting to cook. 

"Let's clean this mess up before we start a new batch," Link said. "I'm afraid we won't be able to have meatballs though. That was all the ground beef I had."

" I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to waste any of your food." 

"It's alright. I'll pick up some more tomorrow. When I get out of work. Come on. Let's get this cleaned up before we start again."

Sherlock nodded and began to help him clean the old lot of food away. 


	42. Spaghetti

Soon everything had been cleaned and the soiled food thrown out. Link refilled the spaghetti pot and set it to boil. He got out another pot to put the sauce in so it would warm.

"OK, first we're going to bring this water to a boil." He pointed to the larger pot. "That's what the spaghetti noodles will go into. We're going to ignore the other pot for a while as the sauce will only take a few minutes to heat up."

Sherlock watched carefully,  storing the information in his mind palace for later use. Link went about showing him how to cook spaghetti. Soon it had been cooked, drained, and the sauce heated.

"Now we're done," he announced. "We'll put these on the table a d dish ourselves up some spaghetti."

"That was surprisingly simple." Sherlock mused.

"See? I told you." Link smiled at him. "There are, of course, more complicated recipes. But spaghetti is a great place to start."

"I'm sure I'll catch ton to the food lingo soon enough. " 

"Definitely. Now" He clapped his hands together and grinned. "Let's eat."

Sherlock grinned as Link handed him a large plate piled high with food.   
  
"Trying to fatten me up?" 

"Perhaps." He bit his lip, a bit ashamed. "Is that alright? You had quite a different reaction earlier."

"I've come around to the idea. I mean,  don't get me wrong, I don't have a big appetite at all, but I'll try." 

"OK. If you can't finish it all, don't force yourself to. Baby steps, Lock. You'll get better in time."

"With your help how could I not get better?" 

Link smiled softly. They went to the table with their plates of food and sat down to eat.

"Oh! We should probably feed Redbeard," Link said. 'I'll put some more food in his dish."

"Great. Thank you. It's good to know he's being fed now."

"It's no problem." Link got up and filled Redbeard's food bowl with his dinner. The dog came running over and began to gobble up the food.

"I feel bad. He hasn't eaten proper dog food in a while." 

"Well, he'll be given the luxury for some time now," Link promised. 

"Thanks Link. We really appreciate it. Don't we,  boy?"

Redbeard was too busy gobbling up his food to bark in affirmation.

"It's alright. I know he he appreciates it." Link sat back down and picked up his fork. "Now, let's eat. I'm starved."

"Me too."  
  
Sherlock's stomach growled in agreement. 

They dug in, slurping up the spaghetti and getting sauce around their mouths. Everything was delicious. Link even went back for seconds.

Although Sherlock wasn't starving his body any more, he was more than happy with his one portion, and instead retired to staring at Link's pretty mouth, memorising its movements. That kind of information would come in useful when kissing the older man.

Link quickly took notice and smirked. He slurped his spaghetti obscenely and licked away the sauce that lined his lush lips.

"You're such a tease. " 

"But you love it," he purred.

"I do. It arouses me, if you hadn't noticed. "

"Oh, believe me, I noticed." He ran his foot up Sherlock's leg and caressed his thigh.

Sherlock gasped softly. "Just a little higher."

"How high, Master?" Link purred. His toes reached closer to his groin, teasing him a bit.

Sherlock shuddered and moaned. "That's the spot. Please...There...There!"

Link's foot was now caressing Sherlock's cock through his pyjama bottoms. He gently flexed his toes over the head of his cock, the arch of his foot nestled comfortably over the shaft.

Sherlock gasped and began to rut against Link's foot. "Fuuuuuuck." 

Link smirked and continued to flex his toes. Sherlock was quickly going mad with desire. And he was getting hard at the idea of making him cum in his pants.Sherlock reached out to grab Link's shoulders. He needed support as he was starting to slip down his chair. He rut harder than before,  already on the tantalising edge of his orgasm. 

Link pressed on, determined to drive Sherlock over the edge. He felt Sherlock's hands dig tight into his shoulders in warning and then the first spurt of cum soaked through his pants and wet his toes. He moaned along with Sherlock as he came, his own hand down his pants as he stroked himself.

Sherlock was still new to orgasms. The wind was practically knocked from his lungs. A sound escaped him that sounded somewhere between a moan and a startled gasp. Link helped him calm down as he came down from his high. He kissed him softly. Sherlock kissed back.

Link hummed and slid his foot back down to the floor. "You OK?"

"I think so." Sherlock murmured softly. 

"That was a pretty intense orgasm," he noted. "Do you need to lie down for a bit? Come back to yourself."

"I'll be OK... I think. " 

"Do you want me to get some water?"

Sherlock swallowed thickly and nodded. "Water..." 

"Coming right up." He pecked him on the lips before standing up to get a glass of water.

"Thanks." Sherlock murmured in appreciation. 

"You're welcome, dear." He kissed his head as he gave him the water.

Sherlock snorted at the term of endearment. "Dear?" 

"Oh. Sorry. Would you rather I not call you that?"

"No. It's fine. It's just...odd." 

"Sorry again," he said softly. "I won't call you that if you don't like it."

"It just seems a little...Old fashioned." 

"And calling you 'Master' isn't old fashioned?" He smirked playfully at him.

"That's just extremely kinky." Sherlock grinned cheekily. 

Link chuckled. "Mmm. Yes. It is," he agreed.

Sherlock sipped at his glass of water and hummed thoughtfully. Now that he was coming down from his intense orgasm he was beginning to think about his future, not only with Link,  but with his family too (or at least Mycroft)   
  
" I think I should call my brother tomorrow. I won't tell him about us but I don't want to leave it like it is. Do you think I should...apologise?" 

"I think it would be a good place to start," Link said. "Having tense relations with a sibling, especially long distance, is very stressful on everyone involved."

" But I wasn't in the wrong...why should I apologise? "

"Well, relay your conversation to me. Tell me everything, not just the parts that are in your favour."

"I was a little shit." Sherlock murmured. "I practically denied my sister's existence."

"Ah. Well, you should apologise for that. Even if you don't mean it. It will make your brother feel better."

"He knows when I'm being genuine. He'll pick up on the fact I'm lying. "

"Are you sure he won't just appreciate that you're trying to make an effort at an apology?" Link asked.

"Perhaps. But my brother is a stubborn. He might not forgive me that easily." 

"Family can be like that. Especially big brothers." He reached out to gently squeeze his shoulder. "All I can say is to just try. He may surprise you."

"I guess so..." Sherlock sighed loudly. "I hope so."

"I'll be here for support if you need it."

"I don't doubt that for a moment." 

"Did you want to call him now then?"

Sherlock nodded.  "It's quite late in the afternoon so he'll be in a lecture but he should answer."

"Because it'll be you?"

"No. Because he gets bored easily. "

"Oh." Link frowned slightly. "Well, at least he'll answer."

"Wouldn't want him dying of boredom. I do like to entertain him. " 

Link laughed. "Alright. Let's give him a call then."

"Mind if I talk to him in private? If things go south I'll come and get you. "

"Sure. That's fine." Link pecked him on the cheek. "You can go to the bedroom. I'll be in the sitting room if and when you need me."

"OK." Sherlock pecked Link on the lips one more time before scootching off his chair and heading to the bedroom. He shut the door behind him and flopped onto the bed with a long sigh. He fumbled for his phone, entered his contacts and pressed his brother's number. 

 

 

 


	43. Tense Phone Call

Mycroft sighed as he listened to his professor drone on. He hated this class, but it was crucial to his major. He sighed in relief when he felt his phone vibrate. He stood up and showed his phone to his professor so he knew he was taking a call. The teacher nodded and resumed talking. Mycroft answered the call as he walked out of the room.

"Holmes," he said in a professional tone.

Sherlock snorted. "Do you answer all of your calls like a stuck up snob, or am I the only one who has the pleasure of hearing it?”

Mycroft froze. "Sh-Sherlock?"

"You sound surprised to hear me.”

"I... I just thought..." He swallowed thickly. " thought you wouldn't want to speak to me after what happened during our last conversation."

"I thought you'd be the one holding the grudge. "

"I... I'll admit I'm upset, but I never could stay mad at you for long."

"You really mean that? " 

"Of course I do," he said.

"I'm sorry, My. I want to love our sister but I just...can't. "

"Can you explain why?" Mycroft asked softly.

"I'm not sure... do I have to have a reason to validate my feelings?"

"Well, no. But it would help me understand why you feel the way you do."

"I just feel like my existence is less important. Mummy and daddy stopped noticing me,  and even you couldn't see the full extent of my problems." 

Mycroft frowned and sighed despondently. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"It's fine. I'm just being an idiot. It's not her fault but I can't help but blame her and I can't bring myself to love her." 

"That... That's fine," he whispered. "I mean, it upsets me to hear that, but I understand where you're coming from. Is it alright if I tell her about you?"

"Yes...I suppose that's inevitable. I don't mind her knowing about me but I don't want to know her. "

"OK," Mycroft whispered dismally. "That... um... OK." He cleared his throat of the lump that had formed there. "So, what's the reason for this call? Is it about the money? Because I was still going to make you a bank account, I swear."

"Oh good...I was wondering about that. I mean,  I wouldn't blame you if you did just leave me penniless. "

"I could never do that to you, Sherlock," he whispered, trying to hide his emotions. "You're my brother. I'll always look out for you. I promise."

"It's OK if you do. I've always got Link. He'll look after me." 

"Link? Who's Link?"

"Oh. Just a man I'm staying with..." Sherlock couldn't help the smirk in his voice. 

"If you're staying with someone why do you--" It suddenly clicked in his head exactly what Sherlock meant and the tone of voice he'd said it in. "Sherlock!" He roared into the phone. "Are you sleeping with an older man?!"

Sherlock snorted and rolled his eyes. "Like you can talk. "

"I'm not bloody underage, Sherlock!" He swore loudly, a few lingering students shooting him some weird looks. "What the bloody fuck are you doing? Do you know how much legal trouble you've put the two of you in?"

"It's not like anyone is going to find out,  are they Mycroft?" 

"They'd better fucking not!" Mycroft spat.

"Would you just calm down?" 

"Calm?! CALM?! You want me to be calm?!" Mycroft shrieked.

"Yes, I would like it if you were calm. You think shouting down the phone is changing the situation? You're making it ten times worse than it actually is." 

Mycroft screamed in frustration. "Sometimes I hate it when you're right!"

"I'm not in danger. He's  nice. Without Link I'd be out on the streets. " 

It took Mycroft a while to calm down enough to reply. He couldn't stand the idea of his little brother having sex with an older man. He knew he was a sexual being, but he hadn't known he was sexually active.

"Well," he finally said after a few minutes of tense silence. "At least you're being taken care of. But... Did you have to sleep with him? Was that the only way you could think of to repay him? Or did he make you sleep with him? Sherlock... have you been sexually coerced or raped by this so-called Link?"

"He didn't force me." Sherlock frowned "I was the one to initiate our relationship." 

"You... You did?" He blinked rapidly, his brain having trouble comprehending what his brother had said. His baby brother had initiated the sexual relationship? But he'd always been under the impression Sherlock wasn't sexually attracted to anyone. Well, except maybe his Internet friend, but that was only speculation.

"Yes,  I  did. He's nice Mycroft, really.  I can be myself with him. I could with John but this hurts a lot less because there isn't a huge distance between us."

Mycroft sat on a bench and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "OK," he mumbled tiredly. "OK. I... I know your happiness is the most important right now. I hope he takes care of you. But if he hurts you in any way, no matter how small, I want you to leave and call me. I'll help you get to a safe place."

"I trust him. He has no reason to hurt me. I think he really likes me." 

"I don't doubt that. You're a very likable person, no matter how much you try not to be. But, should the relationship turn sour, tell me, OK?"

"OK. I promise. You’ve just got to make sure that you're actually there to listen to me, should I need that." 

"Of course, Lock. I promise. Cross my heart." He made the motion across his chest even though Sherlock couldn't see it.

"Right. Because you always keep your promises. " 

"I'm trying to better myself, Sherlock," he said a bit sternly. "Can you say the same?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It means are you sorting out your life? Because you'd better make something of your life seeing as you ran away from your other one."

"I think I am. I have Link now and I'm going to find a professional dance school. I want to be a professional dancer so I guess that's the right first step to take. Link's been really supportive. He's letting me stay here for a few more days so I can get my act together. "

Mycroft hummed and nodded. "That sounds like a great start, Sherlock. I'm very proud of you."

Sherlock flushed with pride. " Um...Thanks. "

"What kind of dancing do you want to go in to? Ballet? Background dancing for films or music videos?"

"Ballroom. I'm classical in every sense Mycroft. "

"Ah. Makes sense. It suits you."

"Will you come and watch me if I ever get a gig? "

"Of course! I'd be honoured!"

"I'll hold you to that promise. "

"Let me know as soon as you land your first show. I'll be there with bells on."

Sherlock laughed softly. " I will do. I want you there for my first dance. Who knows,  maybe I can show you how to dance, what with your two left feet. "

"I don't think even the best dancer in the world could teach me," Mycroft said, chuckling. "I'm horrible."

"I don't know Mycroft. I'm sure I'd  be able to whip you into shape. "

"Well, one can only try." He smiled to himself. "So, when were you thinking of leaving? I'll be sure to make you an account and I'll send you the information for it."

"Um. Maybe in a  few days? Shall I call you when I leave?"

"Yes. Call my mobile.  I always have it on."

"I will do."

"OK. I... I'll talk to you later then, yeah?"

"You have to go already?" Sherlock asked,  disappointed. 

"Well... yes," Mycroft said, equally disappointed. "I have class. But I can call you as soon as the lecture is over and we can chat if you'd like."

"OK. I'll expect a call in and hour or so then, yeh? " 

"Yeah. I'll call you when I get back to my room. Talk to you later."

"Don't let me down."

"I won't," he whispered. "Promise."

"Goodbye Mycroft. "

"Goodbye, Lock."

The phone line crackled and silence replaced the sound of Mycroft's voice. Sherlock rolled over in bed and buried his face in the pillow,  sniffling sadly. He felt like a child again.  When he'd been a very small boy he'd been frightened of storms. Now he was a little older the fear still resided deep within him, only now he was terrified of emotional storms too. 

 

 


	44. Dance Practice

Link knocked softly on the door. "Sherlock? Are you OK?"

"Yeh. Sure. I'm...OK?" 

"Would you like some company?"

"Yes please." 

Link opened the door. Redbeard came bounding in and leapt onto the bed. He licked Sherlock's face, barking happily.

Sherlock chuckled and lifted his face from the pillow. "That tickles."

Redbeard yipped and nuzzled him. He pressed his nose to his cheek and whined softly. Link sat down on the other side of the bed and ran a hand up and down Sherlock's side.

Sherlock sighed loudly and pushed himself closer to Link. "I hate being this far apart from him."

"Your brother?" He asked. "Where is he?"

Sherlock nodded. "He's at university and I'm here. We used to do everything together. "

"What happened to drive you apart?"

"We grew up."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he murmured. "Though he must still care about you a great deal if he's helping you right now."

" I suppose so." Sherlock sighed loudly. "I just miss him."

"When did you see him last?"

"Around Christmas time. Oh god. That seems like ages ago."

'That was a few months ago, so yes, quite a while. It’s March now.”

Sherlock buried his face in Link's chest. "It isn't fair. He's the one person I truly miss. "

Link wrapped him up in his arms, kissing the top of his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered. " I'm truly sorry."

"I feel torn up. I want to be a dancer but I can't follow my dreams, if it means being apart from him."

"Of course you can," Link said. "You don't have to hinder yourself because your brother is far away. Families move all the time, but they continue to do what they do anyway, even if they miss their family greatly. You can still become a dancer even if your brother is in another far away. You just keep in touch regularly to let him know how you're progressing."

"But the distance is killing me. It's eating me up inside. I'm scared all the time now. Without him my future feels more unstable, because I always relied on him to see me through everything. "

"I know," Link murmured. "Believe me, I know. I was the same way with my father. But he made me realise that if we depend on others for our own happiness, then we aren't living full lives. We have to find what makes us happy when no one else is around. Now, your brother seems like the type who will always be there for you, regardless of distance physically or emotionally. He'll still be there for you when you need it. You just have to branch out on your own to find your true passions and what makes you... well, you."

Sherlock sniffled and wiped the back of his hand against his eyes.  He hadn't  even realised he'd been crying. He found comfort in Link's wise words and nodded.   
  
"Perhaps you're right. It's for the best. It isn't as though we'll never see each other again. "

"No," Link murmured. "He'll come to your shows, I'm sure of it. And I will too. Promise. I'll be at every single one."

"If I'm good enough to make it that far that is. " 

"Hey." Link tilted Sherlock's chin up to look at him. "Don't do that. If you don't believe in yourself, you won't thrive. Why don't you show me what you can do? I'd like to see you dance. You can pick out the music and we can clear the lounge so you can have a makeshift stage. How's that sound?"

"I remember that the last time I tried to dance it turned into something...far more. "

"And it may very well again. But that doesn't change the fact I want to see you dance."

"What do you want to see me dance? The tango perhaps?" Sherlock's lips twitched slightly. "I've heard I'm particularly talented at that dance."

"Sure. Whichever you feel most passionate." He stood up and pulled Sherlock with him. "Come on. Let's go make you a stage."

Sherlock locked eyes with Link and swallowed  harshly. Link's eyes were dark and intense. 

"There'll be plenty of time for that later," he murmured, his voice dark and thick like chocolate syrup. "For now, dance for me."

"I'll put on a show just for you." Sherlock promised in a soft whisper. "I'll make it a night to remember. "

Link hummed and licked his lips. "I can't wait,"he purred.

"Lead the way? " 

Link nodded and took Sherlock to the sitting room. He began moving the furniture so he would have room to dance.

"What music do you have? You don't seem the classical type. " 

"No, I'm not," Link chuckled. "But that's the beauty of technology." He held up his phone and gestured to a small speaker system on one of the end tables. "I can find a classical playlist online and play it for you."

Sherlock swayed his hips and hummed. "I'll be able to improvise." 

"A test of your skills." He smiled at him. "Ready?"

"Ready." Sherlock nodded his affirmative. 

Link found a playlist of classical music online and hit play. He sat back on the sofa and watched as Sherlock began to dance.

Sherlock allowed his body to speak for him. He didn't even have to think. The long strides and the graceful twirls came naturally to him.

Link was utterly transfixed as he watched the boy move about the room. He was as graceful as a swan, as cliche as it sounded. But it was true. He easily transitioned between the different music, twirling around the room and laughing joyfully as he danced. He was the most beautiful thing Link had ever seen.

Sherlock was at his happiest when dancing. Whilst dancing his mind was free of the worries that usually occupied his thinking space. He almost forgot that he was being watched.

Link was in complete awe as he watched Sherlock dance. He was so beautiful up there, carefree and without worries. 

 They were interrupted by Sherlock's phone ringing shrilly. Link nearly jumped off the sofa and quickly covered his lap with a pillow.

"Is that your brother?" He asked.

Sherlock's slid to an abrupt stop. He nodded and grabbed his mobile. "I'm sorry. I should probably answer this. "

"It's fine. I'll be here." He smiled at him as he left to answer the call.

 

 


	45. Teach Me How To Tango, Brother Mine

"Out of class already?"

"It's been 45 minutes, Lock," Mycroft said. "What were you doing that made you lose track of time?"

"Oh...I don't know...just stuff." 

"Underage stuff?"

"No! Jesus Christ Mycroft. I was dancing, not having sex." 

"I just thought I'd clarify, because you sound very out of breath." Some papers shuffled on Mycroft's end of the line. "So, I'm getting ready to set you up an account at my bank. Is that alright if I can see into your finances?"

"But then you'll know where I am. That isn't fair Mycroft. I want to remain hidden. Is that so much to ask?" 

"You also realise that by my setting up your account I'll have the password to access your finances anyway, right?" Mycroft countered. "You'll have to change the password to keep me out."

"I realise that but it must be done. Apologies brother mine but some things have to remain private. 

"I would have been insulted if you didn't try," Mycroft said, a smirk in his voice. "I'm still going to set you up with my bank because they're very private."

"Oh yes?  How private? " 

"Government private. I thought that would be something you'd like."

"That's particularly kind of you." 

"No problem."

"I take it your career in politics is beginning to bloom then." 

"Very much so." The sound of a keyboard tapping away could be heard. "What would you like your username to be?"

"Nothing predictable." 

"So... Dancer123 is out?" Mycroft asked, chuckling.

"Don't you dare."

"I'm kidding, Sherlock." He chuckled again and erased the username. "What would you like it to be? Because I have to set this up and then it can't be changed."

"Something that I'll remember but something secure. Um. Perhaps something to do with treasure island?" 

"Like the pirate captain?"

"Yeh. I'd like that." 

"OK. Any special way you want it spelt? Or any numbers added to it?"

"Umm. Not particularly. Spell it like it sounds and no random numbers." 

"C-A-P-T-A-I-N-S-M-O-L-L-E-T-T," Mycroft read off. "No capitals, no spaces, no numbers."

"Sounds perfect. "

"OK. Password will be treasureisland, one word, no capitals, no numbers. You can change it later."

"I'm sorry? You said my password was captain Smollet? Why have you changed it? "

"No, Sherlock, your username is Captain Smollett," Mycroft sighed, a hand rubbing over his eyes.

"I'm sorry Mycroft. My head is all over the place. I'm thinking about other stuff..."

"It's fine, Lock. I understand." He typed a few more things into the computer. "Would it be easier for you to write this all down? Because you'll need the bank's website, your username and password, and the answers to your security questions to keep people, such as myself, out."

"Yes. Of course. Hang on." Sherlock scrambled about for a spare bit of paper and a pen. "Alright. Go  ahead." 

"OK. Username: C-A-P-T-A-I-N-S-M-O-L-L-E-T-T. That's all one word without any capital letters or weird numbers thrown in."

Sherlock hummed and scribbled the information down. "Got it." 

"Password is treasure island, no spaces, no capital letters."

"OK. Is that everything?" 

"For now, yes." Mycroft clicked a few buttons on the screen. "We need to set up security questions now. Three of them."

"What options are there?" 

"Mother's maiden name, name of your first pet, brand of your first vehicle, where you went to elementary school. You know. Generic stuff."

"Well, I can use Redbeard for one of the answers." 

"I figured you would." He typed the answer into one of the question fields.

"What about middle name and favourite place?" 

"Those are options," Mycroft said. "As is childhood best friend."

"I have no childhood friends Mycroft. They all think I'm a freak."

"What about John?"

"I...I'm not sure he'd want to speak to me now. I've practically cut him off." 

"Surely he must be worried about you?" Mycroft asked. "He hasn't blown up your inbox with messages?"

"He has but I'm not reading too much into it. He's got Mary now. She'll keep him company. He doesn't need me." 

"Who's Mary? And how on earth do you know about the people in John's life?"

"I told you Mycroft.  I met Mary a few months back.  She needed a place to hide and I needed to ensure John wasn't going to be alone,  less he do something completely stupid, so I sent her over there." 

"Oh. I'm sorry. I don't remember that. Sorry."

"It's fine. You're occupied with university, I understand." 

"Sorry again," he apologised. "So... last two security questions. Middle name and favourite place you said?"

"Yes, you should know both of those answers."

"I'm not sure I know what your favourite place is anymore"  Mycroft said softly. "As for the middle name, do you want me to use both? Or just one?"

"Just one, make it simple. And you really ought to know my favourite place. Take a guess." 

"The park where we played pirates all the time?'" Mycroft asked, his voice soft as he reminisced.

"I often think of that park, so that will do nicely. "

"OK," he murmured. He typed in the answers. "Security questions are set. You should write them down too."

"Already count it done."

"I put Scott as your middle name answer," he told him. "Thought it'd be a bit less obvious than using Sherlock."

"I sometimes forget Sherlock is my middle name. I've never been called William." 

"You've never been a William. You've always been a Sherlock. William doesn't fit who you are."

"And who am I exactly?" 

"You're Sherlock Holmes," he murmured. "You're my brother, a dancer, and a pirate."

"I'm not sure I'm any of those things anymore." 

"You're still my brother, Sherlock. Nothing will ever change that."

"I'm your brother by blood but.." 

"But what?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Ignore me. I don't want to say something I'll regret. "

"Do you not see us as brothers anymore?" Mycroft asked softly.

"No. Nothing is ever simple."

"I still love you. You're my brother and nothing is going to change that. I just miss the old days. Everything feels different now. I can't explain it because it isn't a physical thing. " 

"Like we've grown apart," he murmured. "Yeah. I can feel it too. I wish we hadn't fallen out. I miss hanging out with you."

"Things can't go back to the way they were. I've had to grow up in the past few months. I'm not a boy anymore and you're building a career for yourself. Perhaps it's better this way."

"That doesn't mean we can't still be close," he whispered. "I miss you, Sherlock. I feel so horrible for how I've treated you. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. We'll be OK. Space from each other is probably going to help us. "

"I hope it does," he said softly. "I hope it doesn't prove to be detrimental to our relationship."

"I'm not saying that this is a permanent solution. I just want to see how things go . Once I've adjusted I think I'd like to see you." 

"OK," he whispered. "OK. And I'll be at your first show as well."

"I expect you to be dancing right along side me. "

"Maybe not onstage, but I'd love to dance with you," he said softly.

"Perhaps we can exchange tips. I can tell you how to dance on the dance floor and you can tell me how to tango between the sheets."

"Oh." Mycroft blushed scarlet. "I haven't done that in a while. I don't think I'd be much help."

"You must be able to teach me a few tricks!"

"I might," he mumbled. "But I don't want to talk about teaching my little brother how to have better sex."

"Please? I ought to be good in bed. Link is a whole lot more...knowledgeable than me. "

"Then why can't he teach you? That's part of the fun of having sex with someone. You learn from one another. Ask him what he likes in bed and then ask him to help you do that."

"I just thought you could give me some damn tips. It's the least you can do." Sherlock snapped,  his brow creasing. 

"What do you want me to say, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, sighing in exasperation. "There really isn't much advice I can give you. Sex is a lot like dancing. It takes patience and concentration, but when you get it right it's fucking amazing."

"But are there ways of...turning people on?" 

"Oh. Yes. Flirting helps, and I would imagine your dancing could be sensual if you wanted it to be. Kissing is very nice. Especially if you ask for help in bettering your kissing technique."

"Any flirting lines that tend to be particularly effective? " 

"Well, sending the text, 'Hey, babe. What are you wearing?' is pretty good."

"And flirting in person?" Sherlock asked,  feeling aggravated by his brother. "I don't particularly care about flirting over the phone."

"You will when you have to phone Link whilst you're dancing and he isn't around," Mycroft pointed out. "But I know what you mean. As far as flirting in person... Geez. Soft touches are nice. Non verbal flirting is wonderful. And, like I said earlier, your dancing could be used as a flirtation device."

"Soft touches, hmmm?" Sherlock broke out into a cheeky grin. "That sounds fun." 

"It can be very sensual. Find the places the person is most sensitive and just... tease them. Give them a massage. Kiss them behind their ear. Suck a hickey onto their neck. Flirting doesn't have to be completely verbal."

Sherlock felt his cock twitch with interest. He swallowed thickly,  focusing fully on his brother's words.  "Tell me more. "

"Well, if you want to verbally flirt, complimenting the person on anything is a nice boost of confidence. What they're wearing, how brilliant their smile is, or how you could get lost in their eyes is... wonderful." He sighed dreamily. "Gregory has done all of those. I can attest that they work like a charm."

Sherlock felt hot and bothered. He could only imagine what he looked like ; flushed and trussed up ready for all kinds of dirty deeds.   
  
"I see..."

"Now, I suggest you calm down before you return to your Lincoln. I can only assume that's his full name seeing as his nickname is Link. I'll finish setting up your account and text you the details later. I... I miss you, Sherlock. And I hope you're new life is exactly what you need."

Sherlock briefly snapped out of his stupor.  "I miss you too. I'll be in touch as often as possible. "

"OK. Take care of yourself, Sherlock. And work hard to achieve your dreams. I look forward to seeing your first show."

"Goodbye Mycroft. I'll be in touch."

"Goodbye, Sherlock," he said softly. "I hope we get to see each other again soon."

"Don't prolong the inevitable. Just...hang up. " 

"OK," Mycroft whispered sadly. "Goodbye, Lock."

Sherlock closed his eyes as the phone line crackled to an end. He was feeling muddled,  his mind unclear. On one hand he was sad about having to say goodbye to his brother on the other hand he felt incredibly turned on and flustered by his brother's advice. 

Redbeard walked over to him and pressed his cold nose against Sherlock's hand. He whined softly and did it again, checking to see if his boy was alright.

"I'm OK." Sherlock pet Redbeard gently. "Just a little confused about things. "

He licked Sherlock's palm and rested his head on his leg. His big brown eyes looked up at him in concern.

"Dawww. Come here boy. Don't just sit there with your big,  sad eyes. "

Redbeard hopped up onto the bed and snuggled close to Sherlock.

"That's it boy." Sherlock scratched him behind the ears.  "You just lie there like a good dog. "

His tail wagged softly as Sherlock pet him. He missed being petted. His boy was busy with the other man a lot now and he missed the attention from him.

"You're a daft dog,  aren't you?" Sherlock grinned,  rubbing Redbeard's belly as the silly dog rolled onto his back. 

He woofed softly, his tall wagging faster. He loved getting belly rubs.

Sherlock began to feel a little less flustered as he settled down on the bed, his hand resting on Redbeard's soft belly. 

Redbeard fell asleep on the bed, his feet twitching as he dreamed of chasing small animals.

Sherlock began to drift off too,  soft snores mingling in with Redbeard's light snuffles. 


End file.
